T  HE  CARRINGTONS 
OF  HIGH  HILL 

MARION  HAR.L7i.ND 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


THE  CARRINGTONS 
OF  HIGH  HILL 


THE  CARRINGTONS 
OF  HIGH  HILL 

AN   OLD   VIRGINIA  CHRONICLE 


BY 
MARION  HARLAND 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S   SONS 
1919 


COPYRIGHT,  1919,  B* 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


Published  August  1919 


TO 
CHARLES   SCRIBNER 

FOR  FORTY  YEARS  MY  PUBLISHER  AND  FRIEND 

THIS   LEAF   FROM   THE  STORIED   PAST 
IS  GRATEFULLY  AND  AFFECTIONATELY  DEDICATED 


1512951 


The  Carringtons  of  High  Hill 


CHAPTER  I 

"LONG,  long  ago — years  upon  years — when  I  was 
young  and  giddy,  one  of  my  dearest  delights  was  to 
picture  to  myself  what  I  should  like  to  be  and  to 
do  if  the  management  of  my  life  were  committed 
to  me.  I  have  been  giving  the  question  half-an- 
hour's  hard  thinking  this  morning.  Real  thinking 
— not  castje-building  with  glorified  wood,  hay,  and 
stubble,  but  logical  deductions  and  all  that,  you 
know,  as  serious  as  anything  I  ever  learned  in 
'Watts  On  the  Mind.'  And  I  have  come  to  a  sane 
and  settled  conclusion." 

The  pause  that  followed  the  speech  was  half  a 
minute  long  before  the  solitary  auditor  said: 

"And  that  was " 

"That  is,  my  dear  aunt!  The  present  tense — 
if  you  please !  I  feel  sublimely  certain  that 

"  '  Were  the  whole  realm  of  Nature  mine,' 

at  this  blessed  minute,  I  should  rather  be  just  what 
I  am  and  here,  and  now,  than  to  be  Semiramis, 
Cleopatra,  and  'the  fair  girl  Victoria'  (as  the  news- 
papers call  her)  rolled  into  one  miracle  of  loveliness 
and  cleverness  and  authority." 


2          THE    CARRINGTONS    OF    HIGH    HILL 

Sinking  the  defiant  tone  into  gentler  musing  she 
went  on,  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  scene  without  the 
window  at  which  she  sat: 

"Yes!  Helen  Carrington!  eighteen  years  old, 
just  emancipated  from  the  thraldom  of  a  young 
ladies'  seminary,  once  more  in  the  home  in  which 
she  was  born,  healthy  and  strong,  and  happy  in 
having  the  dearest  aunt  and  father,  and  the  wisest 
grandmother  living,  and  with  years  of  fun  and  frolic 
before  her — sitting  in  this  grand  old  chamber,  gaz- 
ing out  upon  'the  goodliest  land  the  sun  ever  shone 
upon.'  That  was  what  Captain  John  Smith  said 
of  Virginia,  and  he  left  the  truth  nine-tenths  untold. 

" '  Oh,  let  us  be  joyful!  joyful!  joyful! ' " 

She  warbled  it,  whirling  around  the  room  with 
uplifted  arms  as  a  humming-bird  might  encircle  a 
rose-bush,  winding  up  the  waltz  by  skating  down 
the  whole  length  of  the  polished  floor  to  the  side  of 
the  still  figure  in  a  rocking-chair  set  within  the  deep 
embrasure  of  another  window.  Falling  upon  her 
knees,  the  girl  took  the  smiling  face  between  her 
hands  and  kissed  it  passionately. 

"Say  you  are  as  glad  to  have  me  at  home  as  I 
am  to  be  here!  Or  I  shall  expire  upon  the  spot!" 

"Nobody  could  be  happier  than  I  to  have  my  little 
girl  with  me  again !  You  do  not  need  to  have  me 
repeat  it." 

The  elder  woman  drew  the  flushed  face  to  her 
shoulder  and  laid  her  own  cheek  against  it, 


THE    CARRINGTONS    OF    HIGH    HILL          3 

"We  understand  each  other  and  love  each  other 
too  well  to  waste  words  and  time  in  protestations." 

Her  voice  was  singularly  musical,  her  hands  wan- 
dered fondly  over  the  child's  hair  with  meaning  in 
each  motion. 

Helen  had  called  her  companion  "aunt,"  and  had 
known  no  other  title  for  her  from  earliest  infancy. 
In  reality,  the  bond  of  kinship  was  so  slender  that 
it  would  not  have  been  recognized  anywhere  except 
in  old  Virginia.  Elizabeth  Moore  was  the  only 
child  of  a  distant  cousin  and  intimate  friend  of  the 
mistress  of  the  homestead,  to  which  the  child  came 
at  six  years  of  age,  thirty  years  ago.  Madam  Car- 
rington — as  she  was  even  then  called — had  brought 
her  up  with  her  own  daughter,  who  died  young. 
Elizabeth  recollected  no  other  home,  and  very  faintly 
the  mother  whose  failing  health  had  barred  the 
child  from  close  association  with  her  for  a  couple 
of  years  before  the  parent's  death. 

No  advantage  that  wealth  and  social  position 
could  procure  was  denied  the  adopted  daughter, 
and  she  was  an  heiress  in  her  own  right.  In  person 
she  was  attractive  to  other  eyes  than  those  of  her 
adopted  family.  Petite  in  figure,  graceful  in  mo- 
tion, with  regular  and  refined  features,  and  gifted 
with  a  gentle  fascination  of  manner  and  speech,  she 
was  the  acknowledged  favorite  of  county  society. 
If  lovers  had  not  thronged  in  troops  to  High  Hill — 
the  ancestral  home  of  the  Carringtons — enough 
suitors  were  reported  to  keep  the  gossips  on  the 
alert  to  discover  valid  reasons  why  Elizabeth  Moore 


4      ,  THE    CARRINGTONS    OF    HIGH    HILL 

had  not  married.  She  did  not  vex  her  placid  spirit 
with  the  problem  and  the  perplexities  it  cost  her 
well-wishers.  At  thirty-six  she  held  on  the  gentle 
tenor  of  her  blameless  way,  the  friend  of  all,  the  safe 
counsellor  of  the  young,  and  the  abiding  comfort 
of  the  ruler  of  the  demesne. 

While  she  was  still  a  mere  infant  it  was  decreed 
that  "Elizabeth"  was,  as  Madam  Carrington's 
husband,  then  alive,  declared,  "too  stately  a  name 
for  the  midget."  It  was  he  who  rechristened  her 
"Beth."  A  winsome  title,  and  according  so  har- 
moniously with  the  wearer  that  it  was  fixed  upon 
her  for  life.  True,  Madam  Carrington  never  fa- 
vored the  abbreviation  of  the  name  bestowed  upon 
her  friend's  offspring  by  parents  and  church.  Upon 
her  firm  lips  the  child  and  woman  was  always 
"Elizabeth."  The  servants,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
never  ventured  to  use  the  pet-name.  Etiquette, 
rooted  and  grounded  in  immemorial  custom,  for- 
bade them  to  take  liberties  with  the  titles  of  young 
masters  and  mistresses.  Even  to  the  colored  foster- 
mother,  her  nurslings  were  "Master"  Richard, 
William,  or  Edgar,  and  "Miss"  Margaret,  or  Ade- 
laide, or  Victoria. 

Presently,  Helen  slid — girl  fashion — to  the  floor 
and  laid  her  pretty  head  upon  the  lap  of  her  friend. 
Beth  put  out  an  arm  for  a  cushion  that  lay  in  the 
window-seat. 

"  Sit  upon  this,  dear !  The  floor  is  cold  and  hard 
and,  maybe,  dusty.  And  your  frock  is  too  pretty 
to  be  spoiled." 


THE    CARRINGTONS    OF    HIGH   HILL         5 

"You  think  of  everybody's  comfort  except  your 
own!"  pouted  the  petted  beauty.  "Tell  me, 
auntie  dear,  was  your  angelic  self-forgetfulness  born 
in  you,  or  did  you  have  to  learn  it  by  what  our 
moral  philosophy  teacher  used  to  call  'The  Dis- 
cipline of  Life'?  And  a  mighty  uncomfortable 
process  7  should  consider  it ! " 

"Sometimes — yes!  It  all  depends  upon  how  we 
take  it.  You  were  praising  Jacob  last  night  for 
breaking  in  your  blooded  mare  so  well.  You  would 
not  have  cared  to  ride  her  as  she  was  a  year  ago." 

"But  we  are  not  brute  beasts !  That  is,  all  of  us 
are  not.  You,  for  instance,  are  nearer  akin  to  the 
angels,"  her  arm  stealing  around  Beth's  slender 
waist,  to  deal  an  emphatic  squeeze.  "And  if,  as 
grandmother  and  the  preachers  say,  our  lives  are 
all  cut  and  fitted  and  basted  for  us  before  we  are 
born — where  is  the  need  of  interfering  with  the 
plans  of  the  Almighty?" 

"I  don't  know,  my  child!" 

The  calm  accent  would  have  been  dry  upon  an- 
other's tongue.  Helen  twisted  herself  around  for 
a  full  view  of  the  other's  face. 

"Does  anybody  know?  You  are  a  truth- teller, 
and  don't  hesitate  to  say  right  out  that  you  are  as 
ignorant  as  if  the  Bible  had  never  been  translated 
into  King  James's  Version,  and  never  a  sermon 
upon  effectual  calling  and  predestination  had  been 
preached.  Oh!  I  am  sick  and  tired  of  it  all  I  I 
have  my  own  life  to  live  and  my  own  career  to  make, 
and  I  am  a  free  agent — not  a  jumping-jack,  jerked 


6          THE    CARRINGTONS    OF    HIGH    HILL 

by  a  string  held  by  somebody  I  have  never  seen, 
and  who  has  a  million  billions  of  other  puppets  to 
pull !  Grandmother  would  send  me  off  to  bed  for 
a  week,  and  feed  me  upon  bread  and  water  until 
I  'professed  conversion,'  if  she  were  to  hear  me. 
You  were  made  on  a  different  pattern.  I  can  be 
blasphemous  to  you  when  the  spirit  moves  me." 

A  soft  hand  was  laid  upon  her  lips.  But  the  gen- 
tle voice  did  not  vary  by  a  half-tone: 

"You  are  mixing  your  figures!  You  were  tell- 
ing us  at  breakfast  of  attending  Quaker  meetings 
in  Philadelphia,  and  ought  to  know  that  the  spirit 
does  not  move  anybody  to  blasphemy.  It  is  not 
wise — it  certainly  is  not  safe — for  two  people  as 
ignorant  about  such  matters  as  you  and  I,  to  dis- 
cuss creeds  and  doctrines.  I  have  never  known 
any  good  to  come  of  such  talks,  even  among  men  and 
women  who  profess  to  be  learned  in  theology." 

Helen's  mute  kiss  upon  the  small  hand  before  she 
let  it  go,  was  the  only  response. 

In  the  Southern  homestead  of  the  forties,  the 
"chamber"  still  held  the  place  of  honor  awarded  it 
by  colonial  freeholders.  Since  the  eyes  of  the  mis- 
tress must  be  ever  on  the  watch  to  see  that  rules 
were  not  defied,  and  daily  and  hourly  orders  were 
obeyed  at  least,  in  part,  the  chamber — named  as 
though  there  were  no  other  in  the  mansion — was 
invariably  upon  the  first,  or  what  the  original  Eng- 
lish settlers  would  have  called  "the  ground  floor." 
The  waste  of  time  and  strength  involved  in  climbing 
Stairs  to  carry  on  the  surveillance  of  the  dwelling, 


THE    CARRINGTONS   OF    HIGH   HILL          7 

garden  and  kitchen,  requisite  to  secure  a  tolerable 
degree  of  comfort  for  the  household,  would  have 
worn  the  delicately  reared  matron  of  the  age  into 
an  untimely  grave.  The  chamber  occupied  by 
Madam  Carrington  had  descended  to  her  by  ordi- 
nary generation,  her  great-grandmother  and  her 
husband's  great-grandfather  having  been  sister  and 
brother.  Four  generations  of  the  women  of  her 
blood  had  been  born,  had  lived  out  useful,  domestic 
lives,  given  birth  to  large  families  of  children,  and 
died  in  their  beds  in  the  big  room  in  which  the  first 
scene  of  this  chronicle  is  laid.  The  chamber  was 
twenty-five  feet  square,  and  flanked  the  front  door 
on  the  right  as  one  mounted  the  steps  of  the  long, 
deep  porch,  which  nobody  thought  of  calling  "ve- 
randa" or  "portico."  There  were  four  big  windows 
in  the  room,  two  overlooking  the  front  yard.  The 
word  "lawn"  crept  into  the  Virginia  vocabulary  a 
generation  thereafter.  The  other  two  were  on  either 
side  of  the  wide  "  chimneypiece "  opposite  the  door 
leading  into  the  entrance-hall.  The  high  mantel 
was  of  carved  oak  and  framed  a  huge  fireplace. 

The  season  was  mid-May,  the  air  was  balmy  and 
the  sky  without  a  cloud,  yet  the  andirons — brass 
sphinxes  brought  from  "the  old  country"  a  century 
and-a-half  ago — were  laden  with  hickory  logs,  all 
of  equal  size  and  form,  underlaid  by  yellow  "light- 
wood  "  kindlings,  ready  to  flash  into  a  roaring  flame 
at  the  touch  of  match  or  "chunk  of  fire."  Without 
having  heard  of  hygienic  precautions,  and  not 
knowing  "sanitation"  by  name,  the  mistress  of  the 


8         THE    CARRINGTONS    OF    HIGH    HILL 

chamber  claimed  that  the  uniform  health  of  her 
family  was  due  in  no  small  degree  to  her  practice 
of  having  a  blaze  upon  the  hearth  every  morning 
of  the  year  until  the  Fourth  of  July,  and  after  that, 
whenever  damp  or  cool  mornings  warranted  it. 

The  "blaze"  had  done  its  duty  that  day,  and 
been  supplanted  by  the  orderly  construction  that 
now  graced  the  hearth. 

At  the  corner  of  the  room  most  remote  from  the 
fireplace  stood  the  curtained  four-poster.  The 
ample  feather-bed  was  like  a  smooth  snow-drift 
under  a  counterpane  embroidered  by  the  present 
owner  and  her  three  sisters,  in  as  many  different 
designs,  all  original  with  the  respective  needle- 
women. 

Full  white  dimity  curtains,  depending  from  a 
carved  cornice,  enclosed  the  bed  on  three  sides,  and 
were  looped  back  with  blue  ribbons  on  the  side  fac- 
ing the  room.  A  mahogany  bureau  of  the  late 
Georgian  period;  a  wardrobe  of  the  same  date 
whose  double  doors  were  mirrors  ten  feet  in  height; 
three  armchairs;  a  "light  stand"  bearing  two  silver 
candlesticks  at  the  head  of  the  bed;  two  folding 
card- tables,  genuine  Sheratons;  three  small  Windsor 
chairs  and  the  low  rocker  in  which  Beth  sat  with 
her  work-basket,  completed  the  furniture  of  the 
spacious  room  which  was  the  heart  of  the  home. 

Madam  Carrington  had  told,  tunes  without  num- 
ber, that  the  card-tables  were  bought  by  her  grand- 
father at  the  auction  of  the  effects  of  one  of  the 
Williamsburg  Custises,  a  cousin  of  Martha  Wash- 


THE    CARRINGTONS   OF    HIGH    HILL         9 

ington's  first  husband,  and  how  the  baize  covering 
of  the  folding-leaf  of  one  table  bore  the  marks  of  a 
toddy-bowl  and  smaller  rings  left  by  tumblers  of 
"hot  stuff." 

"My  grandmother  had  new  baize  put  on,  of 
course,"  she  would  add,  "but  the  old  covers  were 
never  thrown  away.  I  have  them  still.  For,  my 
grandfather,  who  fought  under  Washington  and  had 
messed  with  him  very  often,  used  to  say:  'There  is 
no  telling  but  that  one  or  more  of  the  stains  may 
have  been  made  by  the  general's  own  toddy  tum- 
bler.' The  dear  old  gentleman  was  too  good  a 
Presbyterian  to  care  for  cards  or  toddy  for  himself, 
but  like  all  true  patriots,  he  reverenced  Washington." 

Beth  could  repeat  the  tale,  word  for  word.  Once 
in  a  great  while  when  madam  was  safely  out  of 
hearing,  she  would  confide  to  a  discreet  kinswoman 
— or  man — the  commentary  of  the  veteran's  grand- 
son, the  late  Edmund  Carrington,  that  "if  one  might 
judge  from  the  rubicund  complexion  and  bulbous 
nose  of  the  sainted  Presbyterian's  portrait,  hanging 
over  the  sideboard  in  the  dining-room,  he  was  not 
converted  to  teetotalism  until  his  wild  oats  were 
sowed,  cut,  and  harvested." 

It  is  doubtful  if  the  irreverent  remark  was  ever 
made  by  the  husband  in  the  august  presence  of  his 
consort.  If  it  had  drifted  to  her  at  second  hand, 
she  made  no  sign.  She  relegated  it,  along  with  other 
signs  of  the  growing  irreverence  of  the  present  age, 
to  the  limbo  appointed  for  "things  not  convenient 
to  be  spoken  of." 


io       THE    CARRINGTONS    OF    HIGH    HILL 

In  Beth  Moore's  constant  heart  her  adoptive 
father  held  a  higher  place  than  that  accorded  by 
his  relict  to  the  Father  of  his  Country.  His  genial 
courtesy  to  all  classes;  his  tender  care  of  her — from 
the  day  he  lifted  her  in  strong,  caressing  arms  from 
the  carriage  that  brought  the  orphan  to  his  door, 
to  the  hour  when  he  opened  his  dying  eyes  upon 
her  grief-stricken  face,  and  the  stiffening  lips  tried 
to  frame  her  name — he  was  the  embodiment  of  her 
ideal  of  manly  virtues  and  graces.  He  had  been 
friend,  champion,  teacher,  and  fondest  of  parents 
to  her  for  six  years.  She  had  passed  her  twelfth 
birthday  just  a  week  before  he  died.  She  had  taken 
her  last  ride  with  him  that  day — the  first  ride  upon 
the  horse  he  had  had  trained  for  her,  "to  be  given 
to  her  when  she  entered  her  teens."  She  had  car- 
ried the  phrase  in  her  memory  as  a  sacred  bequest. 

She  could  not  have  told  why  she  was  saying  it 
over  to  herself,  or  why  his  image  should  have  been 
especially  distinct  in  her  mind  on  this  May  day. 
Nor  why  the  child,  leaning  on  her  lap,  her  dreamful 
eyes  bent  upon  the  cumulous  clouds  asleep  in  the 
blue  sky  above  the  tree-tops,  should  at  that  instant 
have  put  a  leading  question  to  her: 

"Aunt  Beth!  What  sort  of  a  man  was  my 
grandfather?" 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  thrill  that  went  through  her  companion's 
frame  brought  Helen's  eyes  from  cloudland  to  the 
present  scene. 

There  was  nothing  in  the  commonplace  query 
to  startle  or  surprise  the  little  lady.  Grandfather 
had  been  dead  these  twenty-odd  years,  and  Beth 
was  really  not  related  to  him.  The  thought  flashed 
through  her  brain  before  the  answer  came,  uttered 
deliberately  and  with  no  token  of  emotion: 

"One  of  the  best  men  God  ever  made,  my  child, 
or  that  He  will  ever  make.  Why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

Helen  laughed  gleefully: 

"Because  I  heard  Mr.  Robinson  say  a  funny  thing 
about  him  the  day  I  spent  with  Carrie  Robinson 
in  Richmond.  He  was  talking  with  another  man 
on  the  back  porch,  and  they  did  not  know  I  could 
hear  what  was  said.  The  other  man — a  Mr.  Sel- 
den  from  down  the  river,  who  had  dined  with  the 
Robinsons  that  day — said:  'I  met  Paul  Carrington 
on  the  street  this  morning.  He  told  me  that  he 
was  on  his  way  home  from  Philadelphia,  where  he 
had  been  to  bring  his  daughter  from  boarding- 
school.  He  looks  well — and  like  his  mother.  She 
was  the  handsomest  woman  in  the  county  when 
Edmund  Carrington  courted  her.'  Then  he  laughed 

ii 


12        THE    CARRINGTONS    OF    HIGH    HILL 

— a  horrid  kind  of  chuckle — and  said:  'You  recol- 
lect that  we  used  to  speak  of  them  as  "Mrs.  Carring- 
ton,  Et  Cetera  "  ?  His  name  was  "  Edmund  Travers 
Carrington,"  you  know.  But  I  tell  you,  she  was  a 
"clipper!"  Then  Mr.  Robinson  said  something 
in  a  low  voice  and  they  moved  away.  I  suppose 
he  may  have  told  who  I  was,  and  was  afraid  that  I 
might  be  near  enough  to  overhear  them." 

"It  would  have  been  better  if  you  had  not  stayed 
there  after  your  father's  name  was  mentioned. 
The  only  honorable  and  safe  thing  to  do  in  such 
circumstances  is  to  get  out  of  hearing  as  soon  as 
possible.  The  old  saying  that  'Listeners  never  hear 
any  good  of  themselves'  is  true  in  ninety-nine  out 
of  a  hundred  cases.  I  am  very,  very  sorry  you  heard 
the  'disrespectful  remark  about  your  grandfather. 
Forget  it  as  soon  as  you  can !  I  know  Mr.  Selden. 
I  thought  he  was  a  gentleman !" 

"He  is,  auntie!  The  Robinsons  think  the  world 
and  all  of  him !  He  was  only  joking,  and  he  did  not 
know  I  heard  him !" 

"Don't  try  to  defend  an  unkind  and  unjust  speech 
— a  foolish  play  upon  the  accidental  arrangement 
of  initials!  I  have  heard  of  it  before,  but  never 
imagined  that  a  man  of  Mr.  Selden's  character  would 
mention  it.  Listen,  child !  never  give  the  silly  joke 
a  second  thought. 

"Your  grandfather  was  a  Christian  gentleman, 
with  the  kindest  heart  that  ever  beat.  He  was  so 
far  superior  to  some  men  with  whom  he  was  obliged 
to  associate  that  they  did  not  understand  him.  He 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL          13 

loved  books,  and  they  loved  horse-racing.  He  was 
chivalrous  to  women,  and  they  were  careless  of  the 
common  civilities  of  life.  But  I  have  not  patience 
to  talk  of  it.  It  was  monstrous  1  disgraceful ! " 

To  Helen's  distress  and  amazement  the  words 
were  lost  hi  a  sob,  and  the  speaker  raised  the  hand- 
kerchief she  was  hemstitching  to  dry  a  tear.  The 
display  of  weakness  in  serene,  even-pulsed  Aunt 
Beth  was  unprecedented  in  the  girl's  experience. 
Both  arms  went  around  the  bowed  form,  and  a 
flood  of  regretful  apologies — half-articulated  in  her 
haste  and  contrition — were  poured  into  Beth's  ear. 

The  outbreak  was  quickly  over.  The  unfinished 
cambric  was  used  to  dry  the  apologist's  face,  and 
Beth  smiled  naturally  into  the  moist  eyes. 

"I  ought  not  to  be  sorry  that  you  told  me  the 
ridiculous  story,  for  it  gave  me  the  chance  to  set 
wrong  right.  I  don't  want  you  to  be  afraid  to  ask 
me  any  questions  that  bother  you,  and  which  I 
may  be  able  to  answer.  It  is  far  better  to  get  rid 
of  perplexities  by  plain  speaking  than  to  let  them 
fester  in  the  heart  until  they  change  to  poison. 
Open  confession  is  good  for  the  soul,  we  are  told." 

Helen  was  perched  upon  the  window-bench,  now, 
and  her  smile  was  fading  before  a  blending  of  wist- 
fulness  and  diffidence  it  was  not  easy  to  put  into 
words.  She  twisted  her  ringers  tightly  while  she 
murmured  slowly:  "That  is  a  Roman  Catholic 
proverb,  isn't  it?" 

"Perhaps  so.    It  is  true,  no  matter  who  said  it !" 

"That  reminds  me — "  began  the  girl,  an  odd  mix- 


14         THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HELL 

ture  of  wistfulness  and  incertitude  gaining  upon 
her  as  she  tortured  the  slim  hands. 

"Of  what  else?"  smiled  Beth,  resuming  her  stitch- 
ing to  grant  the  girl  time  to  collect  her  wits  and  put 
words  in  order. 

"I  ought  not  to  say  'reminds  me,'  for  the  idea  has 
not  been  out  of  my  thoughts  for  one  waking  hour 
since  I  came  home.  I  can't  tell  you  how  I  have 
longed  to  ask  you  a  few  questions,  and  how  I,  some- 
how, couldn't  bring  myself  to  speak  of  what  has 
never  been  talked  of  when  I  was  by.  Yet  it  would 
seem  that  I,  of  all  living  creatures,  ought  to  know 
all  about  it.  I  seem  to  have  had  the  luck  of  hear- 
ing— things!  when  I  was  in  Richmond.  I  met  at 
the  same  Robinson  dinner  an  old  lady — a  Mrs. 
Poitiaux — who  said  I  looked  like  my  mother !" 

She  stopped  short  and  looked  straight  into  eyes 
that  widened  suddenly,  as  in  alarm,  or  in  amazement. 
Then  Beth  threaded  a  needle  with  hands  that  did 
not  quiver,  and  spoke  calmly: 

"Yes?    Goon!" 

"You  won't  be  vexed  if  I  do?" 

"Why  should  I?  Didn't  I  tell  you  to  speak  out 
frankly?" 

"I  know,  but  you  see,  I  have  never  heard  her 
spoken  of  by  any  of  you  at  home.  I  thought  when 
I  was  younger  that  was  because  we  Virginians  don't 
talk  about  dead  relations.  It  isn't  considered 
proper — for  some  reason  I  don't  comprehend.  And 
it  is  not  so,  everywhere.  In  Philadelphia,  for  in- 
stance, it  is  quite  different—- — " 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HELL         15 

She  was  feeling  her  way  from  one  sentence  to 
another,  still  searching  the  eyes  that  did  not  quail 
under  the  questioning  that  was  a  demand. 

"So  it  never  struck  me  as  singular  that  I  grew 
up  without  being  told  anything  of  the  mother  who 
died  when  I  was  a  baby.  Once  a  colored  nurse 
took  me  down  to  the  burying-ground  at  the  foot  of 
the  garden,  and  showed  me  a  hollow  she  said  was 
my  mother's  grave!  Ugh!  my  flesh  creeps  now 
when  I  think  what  a  forlorn  spot  it  was!  The 
Germans  call  a  graveyard  'God's  acre/  The  High 
Hill  burial-ground  must  be  the  devil's  playground 
— overgrown  with  grass  and  weeds  for  three-quarters 
of  the  year !  Three  times,  between  March  and  No- 
vember, the  tangled  stuff  is  cut  and  carried  away  to 
make  bedding  for  cows  and  horses.  I  coaxed  the 
girl  to  take  me  there  once  a  week,  and  to  help  me 
trim  the  grass  from  my  mother's  grave.  Then, 
somehow,  grandmother  found  us  out  and  punished 
Molly,  and  changed  my  nurse.  I  was  told  there 
were  snakes  there!"  She  shuddered  again. 

"  Dear  child  ! "  Beth  chafed  with  her  warm  hands 
the  fingers  that  were  growing  cold.  "You  were  an 
imaginative  baby,  and  it  was  unwholesome  for  your 
mind,  as  well  as  for  your  body,  for  you  to  visit  that 
place  often.  You  know  that  we  do  not  think  of 
those  who  are  gone  from  us  as  lying  in  the  earth, 
but  as  living  and  happy.  This  is  why  so  little  atten- 
tion is  paid  to  graveyards." 

An  impatient  gesture  checked  her. 

"We  won't  discuss  that  now!    What  I  began  to 


16         THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

say  was  that  this  Mrs.  Poitiaux  is  a  Catholic.  She 
had  met  my  mother  several  times  when  my  father 
took  her  to  Richmond,  spring  and  fall,  to  buy  new 
clothes,  and — as  Mrs.  Poitiaux  told  me  in  a  half- 
whisper,  lest  Mrs.  Robinson  should  guess  what  we 
were  talking  about — 'to  get  a  chance  to  go  to  her 
own  church  and  to  confession.'  She  cautioned  me 
to  say  nothing  to  the  Robinsons  about  it  when  she 
found  that  I  had  not  known  until  then  that  my 
mother  was  not  a  Presbyterian,  or  even  a  Protestant. 
Now — that  the  black  secret  is  out  of  my  mouth — 
I  want  you  to  tell  me  all  about  my  very  own  mother. 
Was  there  any  other  disgraceful  secret  connected 
with  her?  If  so,  I  have  a  right  to  know  it.  When 
I  turn  over  the  question  in  my  mind — particularly 
at  night  when  I  ought  to  be  sleeping — I  cannot  be- 
lieve that  I  am  the  same  girl  who  declared  not  half 
an  hour  ago  that  she  was  the  happiest  being  alive. 
You  often  say  that  I  am  'mercurial'  and  have  the 
'sunniest  temperament  of  anybody  you  have  ever 
known.'  But  I  can,  and  I  do  suffer  when  I  let 
myself  think,  and  I  have  done  some  hard  thinking 
this  last  week. 

11  Now — before  grandmother  and  father  come  back 
from  making  the  rounds  of  the  plantation — which 
will  take  them  for  an  hour  more — I  beg  you — the 
only  mother  I  have  ever  known — to  tell  me  who  and 
what  I  am,  and  who  was  my  real  mother." 

She  was  actually  kneeling,  her  hands  clasped ;  her 
gaze  into  Beth's  eyes  was  an  agony  of  supplication. 

Without  offering  to  raise  her  from  the  floor,  the 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         17 

older  woman  laid  aside  her  work  and  put  her  hand 
under  the  quivering  chin  of  the  suppliant. 

"'Disgrace'  is  not  a  word  to  be  named  in  this 
matter,  my  dear.  I  will  clear  away  every  shred  of 
the  'mystery'  in  a  very  few  words.  Your  mother, 
Cecile  Larue,  was  a  New  Orleans  beauty  and  belle 
when  your  father,  who  was  making  a  tour  of  the 
South,  fell  in  love  with  her,  and  after  a  month's  ac- 
quaintance married  her  and  brought  her  to  his  home. 
Your  grandmother  was  not  pleased,  at  first,  because 
the  marriage  was  brought  about  so  suddenly.  Your 
father  had  written  to  inform  her  of  it,  and  to  pre- 
pare her  for  their  coming.  But,  as  happened  more 
frequently  then  than  now,  the  letter  miscarried, 
and  we  did  not  get  it  until  he  had  been  at  home  a 
week. 

"By  then,  the  bride  had  taken  all  hearts  captive. 
She  introduced  new  life  into  the  quiet  neighborhood, 
and  the  young  people  blessed  her  for  it.  She  was 
full  of  life  and  gayety.  In  a  year  you  were  born, 
and  the  old  house  was  happier  than  ever.  But  the 
climate  was  never  quite  suited  to  your  mother's 
constitution.  She  took  cold  easily  and  grew  list- 
less and  nervous.  Your  father  went  with  her  to  the 
White  Sulphur  when  you  were  two  years  old,  and 
she  rallied  for  a  while.  The  next  winter  she  was 
thin  and  pale,  and  had  a  cough  that  alarmed  us. 
In  January  your  father  took  her  back  to  New  Orleans. 
It  was  a  tedious  journey,  but  he  wrote  that  she  bore 
it  well,  and  that  he  would  leave  her  with  her  mar- 
ried brother  for  the  rest  of  the  whiter.  He  came 


i8         THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

home  alone  in  March.  In  May  he  had  word  that 
your  mother  was  ill  again,  and  set  out  at  once  for 
New  Orleans.  We  heard  nothing  for  several  weeks. 
Then  a  letter  came  to  say  that  she  was  dead,  and 
that  her  husband  was  bringing  the  remains  home. 
He  reached  High  Hill  the  last  of  June.  The  next 
day  she  was  buried  in  the  family  graveyard. 

"You  know  the  rest;  how  you  have  been  the 
dearest  thing  upon  earth  to  us  three  ever  since. 
How,  when  your  father  and  grandmother  thought 
it  best  to  give  you  better  educational  advantages 
than  were  to  be  had  hi  Virginia,  they  entered  you 
in  a  Philadelphia  seminary,  the  principal  of  which 
was  a  distant  relative  and  old  friend  of  your  grand- 
mother. 

"And  now" — gathering  the  trembling  figure  into 
her  bosom  as  if  she  were  still  the  baby  that  had 
slept  there  until  the  little  one  developed  into  the 
maiden  who  had  outgrown  her  protector — "now 
that  you  have  heard  the  long,  sad  story,  we  will 
talk  of  other  things  to  get  these  worrying  fancies 
out  of  your  head.  Let  them  go,  my  child !  There 
is  enough  real  misery  in  the  world  without  torturing 
ourselves  with  ghosts  of  our  own  making.  Did 
Mr.  Rice  tell  you  that  the  white  Dorking  hen,  sent 
to  him  from  England,  has  hatched  out  a  fine  brood 
of  chickens  ?  You  knew — didn't  you — that  he  built 
a  separate  house  for  her  when  she  was  ready  to  bring 
up  a  family?" 

The  little  jest  fell  flat.  The  ghosts  were  far  from 
being  laid.  Helen  had  braced  herself  in  the  em- 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         19 

brasure  of  the  window,  her  arms  wrapped  about  her 
knees.  She  looked  away  from  the  would-be  com- 
forter, in  putting  the  next  question.  Her  eyes  were 
set  and  hard,  her  intonations  inquisitorial. 

"I  am  not  to  be  put  off  in  that  fashion,  Aunt 
Beth !  As  I  have  said,  I  have  a  right  to  know  all 
I  wish  to  learn  about  my  personal  history,  and  I 
mean  to  get  the  facts  in  the  case.  Did  my  father 
love  my  mother?  Was  he  unkind  to  her?" 

' '  Helen  Carrington  ! ' ' 

The  exclamation  rang  out  like  the  snap  of  a  whip, 
but  the  stiff  attitude  was  not  relaxed;  the  eyes 
stared  unwaveringly  at  the  opposite  side  of  the 
recess. 

"Yes!  it  is  Helen  Carrington  who  is  bold  enough 
to  demand  her  rights.  You  promised  to  be  frank 
with  me.  Keep  your  word !" 

Angry  as  she  was,  she  was  forced  to  respect  the 
dignity  of  the  reply. 

"It  is  not  strange  that  I  should  be  shocked  by  the 
question.  You  ought  to  know  your  father  too  well 
to  think — much  less  to  insinuate — that  he  could 
be  unkind  to  any  one.  He  loved  your  mother  de- 
votedly! He  has  mourned  her  sincerely  all  these 
years.  Let  that  satisfy  your  curiosity.  I  thought 
everybody  who  had  any  knowledge  of  his  character 
and  actions  must  be  aware  of  that.  You  should  be 
the  last  person  on  earth  to  doubt  the  long,  sad  story. 
I  take  it  you  have  no  more  to  say  on  the  subject  ?  " 

She  arose  as  if  to  leave  the  room.  For  her  the 
inquisition  was  closed. 


20         THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

Still  without  looking  at  her,  Helen  held  the  skirt 
of  Beth's  dress  fast. 

"There  are  one  or  two  more  points  to  be  settled. 
Did  my  grandmother  hate  her  son's  wife  because 
he  married  her  without  her  permission?  Or  be- 
cause she  was  a  Roman  Catholic?" 

"If  you  do  not  know  her  well  enough  to  answer 
the  questions  for  yourself,  it  is  useless  for  me  to 
tell  you  the  truth." 

Never  in  the  whole  course  of  their  united  lives 
had  Helen  seen  Beth  wrought  up  to  positive  anger. 
The  soft  rose-tint  that  kept  her  face  young  took  on 
a  deeper  flush;  her  tone  was  vibrant.  Gathering 
up  her  work  into  the  basket,  she  walked  to  the  door, 
features  set  and  head  erect. 

In  the  sudden  revulsion  of  a  nature  at  once  mer- 
curial and  passionate,  Helen  sprang  after  her,  over- 
taking her  in  the  wide  porch  which  was  the  family 
sitting-room  from  April  until  November.  It  was 
dim  with  the  green  glooms  of  honeysuckle  and 
"virgin's-bower,"  and  besides  themselves  there  was 
no  one  in  sight.  With  loving  vehemence  the  peni- 
tent dragged  her  mentor  to  the  far  end  of  the  re- 
treat and  forced  her  into  the  big  rocker  which  was 
Madam  Carrington's  usual  seat.  Holding  her  there, 
the  girl  poured  out  a  torrent  of  contrition. 

Some  devil  must  have  taken  possession  of  her 
to-day !  She  hated  herself  for  yielding  to  it !  She 
could  never  forgive  herself!  But  if  Aunt  Beth 
could  and  would — she  would  promise  never,  never, 
NEVER — — 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         21 

She  was  not  allowed  to  go  further. 

"There !  there ! "  The  tone  was  the  same  that  had 
hushed  her  childish  rages.  "We  will  go  up  to  my 
room  and  quiet  down  before  any  one  comes  in  to 
see  us.  A  little  cold  water  and  cologne  will  set  you 
all  right  again!  No,  my  child!  I  am  not  angry 
with  you — only  sorry  that  we  forgot  ourselves  for 
a  few  minutes." 

"Forgot  ourselves!"  That  was  the  tone  of  the 
woman's  life  and  conduct. 

Before  Helen  was  sent  to  the  Philadelphia  semi- 
nary to  "mellow  down,"  as  she  put  it,  she  had  de- 
clared that  "Aunt  Beth  insisted  upon  sharing  the 
sins  of  other  folks,  and  gave  them  all  the  credit  of 
their  virtues." 

Refusing  now  to  listen  to  more  confessions,  and 
turning  a  deaf  ear  to  incoherent  petitions,  she  forced 
the  culprit  to  lie  down  upon  the  lounge  in  the  cool, 
shaded  upper  chamber,  of  which  it  might  truly  be 
said  that  "the  name  was  'Peace,'"  administered  a 
draught  of  sal  volatile  and  water,  and  fanned  her 
patient  until  the  convulsive  heavings  of  the  recum- 
bent form  subsided  into  natural  breathing. 

"Asleep — poor  baby!"  whispered  the  watcher, 
drawing  a  tall-backed  chair  between  the  lounge  and 
the  window  to  shut  out  every  ray  of  light.  For 
herself,  she  sat  in  the  shadow,  motionless  and 
thoughtful,  reviewing  the  stormy  scene  she  would 
fain  have  averted.  She  had  a  sensitive  conscience, 
and  to  tamper  with  the  truth  was  a  sin  at  that  tri- 
bunal. She  dealt  honestly  with  the  part  she  had 


22         THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

played  in  fulfilling  the  pledge  to  be  candid  with 
the  daughter  who  had  been  kept  all  her  life  in  ig- 
norance of  the  leading  facts  of  her  parents'  wedded 
life. 

"Every  word  was  true,"  was  the  ruling.  "Had 
I  told  her  all,  nothing  but  trouble  would  have  come 
of  it." 

Then  memory,  cruel  as  the  grave,  bowed  head  and 
heart.  The  June  day  she  had  named  to  Helen  as 
the  date  of  the  home-bringing  of  the  Southern  bride 
was  years  ago.  Yet  in  fancy  she  was  sitting  upon 
the  shady  side  of  the  porch  with  Paul's  mother  and 
Mr.  Rice,  then  the  pastor  of  the  church  in  which 
the  Carringtons  worshipped — chatting  naturally  of 
indifferent  affairs.  The  forenoon  was  windless  but 
not  sultry,  and  the  roses  were  in  richest  bloom. 
Madam  Carrington  wore  white  habitually  in  summer, 
as  did  Beth,  and  Mr.  Rice  had  on  that  day  a  suit 
of  immaculate  white  linen. 

Beth  had  picked  a  tea-rose  for  him,  and  he  had 
fastened  it  nattily  in  his  buttonhole.  The  front 
gate  was  not  visible  from  this  side  of  the  porch,  and 
they  were  too  busy  talking  to  hear  the  roll  of  a 
carriage  that  halted  there.  The  crunch  of  foot- 
steps upon  the  gravel  walk  skirting  the  corner  of 
the  house  attracted  no  attention  until  they  halted 
at  the  foot  of  the  steps,  and  Paul  Carrington  led 
to  the  level  of  the  porch  floor  the  radiant  creature 
none  of  the  three  had  ever  seen  before.  Draperies 
of  filmy  pink  and  gray  floated  about  her  like  twi- 
light mists,  her  beautiful  face  dimpled  with  smiles. 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         23 

As  Paul  began  to  speak  she  held  out  two  white- 
gloved  hands  in  wooing  appeal: 

"Mother!  This  is  my  wife!  You  must  love 
her!" 

Then — Beth  could  never  forget  the  crowning 
horror  of  the  scene — Madam  Carrington  swooned 
for  the  first  time  in  her  life.  Her  son,  from  one 
side,  and  Mr.  Rice,  from  the  other,  saved  her  from 
falling,  and  laid  her  back  in  the  chair  from  which 
she  had  sprung  erect  like  one  shot  through  the 
heart.  .  .  . 

Beth  pressed  her  hands  upon  her  eyes — as  if  to 
shut  out  the  weeks  and  months  that  followed. 
She  had  forced  herself  to  outline  the  tale  to  the 
child  of  the  enchantress  who  changed  the  whole 
complexion  of  county  life  for  the  next  three  years. 
Beth  had  told  Helen  that  the  bride  captivated  the 
neighborhood.  The  particulars  of  the  conquest  she 
would  not  detail. 

The  chain  of  fine  plantations  bordering  the  river 
on  both  sides  had  a  reputation  throughout  the 
State  for  intelligence,  breeding,  and  a  refinement 
of  prosperity  utterly  dissimilar  to  the  meretricious 
polish  which  is  all  that  mere  wealth  can  impart. 
Without  exception  the  "best  people"  of  the  region 
were  old  families  bound  into  the  charmed  confed- 
eration by  generations  of  college-bred  freeholders 
and  high-born  women.  Their  lands  were  well-cul- 
tivated; their  negroes  well- treated  and  contented; 
their  churches  were  well-attended.  Nine- tenths  of 
the  white  population  were  Presbyterians  with  a 


24         THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

sprinkling  of  Episcopalians.  The  latter  might  be 
said  to  add  frosting  to  the  seemly  loaf  of  highly 
respectable  Christianity.  Heredity  might  be  char- 
acterized as  the  understudy  of  an  approving  Provi- 
dence that  had  shaped  the  ends  of  county  families, 
preserved  accredited  pedigrees  and  assured  incomes. 

Paul  Carrington's  beautiful  wife  had  French 
blood  in  her  veins.  She  was  a  mad  lover  of  plea- 
sure, of  power,  and  of  prestige.  In  the  three  years 
of  her  reign  as  a  society  leader  in  the  neighborhood 
we  have  indicated  in  a  few,  feeble  strokes,  she 
wrought  cyclonic  changes.  In  place  of  staidly 
elegant  "dining-days,"  she  set  the  fashion  of  dinner- 
parties and  suppers,  the  last  followed  by  dancing 
kept  up  into  the  small  hours. 

She  was  a  clever  musician,  and  she  introduced 
ballads  that  "took"  like  wild-fire  with  the  young  of 
both  sexes,  and  horrified  their  elders.  Making  no 
secret  of  her  own  ecclesiastical  affiliations,  she  yet 
gave  conspicuous  proof  of  wifely  duty  and  the  de- 
sire to  pay  due  respect  to  her  mother-in-law  and  her 
congeners,  by  attending  their  church  with  conscien- 
tious regularity.  While  there  she  comported  her- 
self with  devout  decorum  that  aroused  in  the  elder 
women  presumptuous  hopes  that  she  might  in  time 
be  led  to  see  the  error  of  her  ways — for  which, 
misguided  dear!  she  was  less  to  blame  than  the 
parents  who  had  brought  her  up  in  the  worship  of 
the  Scarlet  Woman.  It  would  have  been  amazing 
to  one  unversed  in  the  subtleties  of  social  diplomacy 
to  note  how  surely  the  imported  leader  conquered 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         25 

the  prejudices  of  all  classes  and  ages.  Fascination 
was,  with  her,  a  genius.  Madam  Carrington's 
oldest  and  warmest  friends  whispered  among  them- 
selves that  Madam  "did  not  make  allowance  for 
Paul's  wife,  and  that  it  was  a  pity  she  took  no 
pains  to  conceal  her  disapproval  of  her  works  and 
ways."  Policy  and  Christian  charity  (alas,  too  often 
divorced !),  if  not  her  love  for  the  handsome  son 
who  had  always  proved  himself  loving  and  dutiful 
— even  if  he  had  fallen  in  love  with  a  Papist — should 
have  dictated  moderate  measures. 

Cecile  Carrington  was  on  the  topmost  crest  of 
popular  favor  when  the  birth  of  her  child  secluded 
her  for  a  while  from  the  stage  she  had  not  merely 
adorned,  but  had  built,  and  "set."  The  baby  was 
not  a  week  old  when  the  first  open  break  in  the  armed 
neutrality  of  mother-in-law  and  the  young  wife  oc- 
curred. Cecile  had  never  before  exhibited  the  ob- 
stinacy which  is  the  underpinning — sometimes  un- 
suspected— of  what  we  applaud  as  "will-power." 
Before  her  confinement  she  had  selected  a  healthy 
young  mulatto  whose  child  was  a  few  days  older  than 
Cecile's  own,  as  the  prospective  foster-mother  of 
the  expected  infant.  She  took  the  mulatto  into 
confidence,  and  possibly  her  adoring  Paul,  with  re- 
gard to  her  intention,  but  no  one  else,  prior  to  the 
great  event.  The  trial  safely  past,  she  made  no 
secret  of  her  design.  She  could  not  and  she  would 
not  nurse  her  child !  Her  health  and  her  inclina- 
tions, her  duty  to  her  husband  and  to  society,  for- 
bade it. 


26         THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

Could  Beth  ever  forget  the  altercation  that  en- 
sued upon  Madam  Carrington's  discovery  of  the 
plot  menacing  the  physical  and  moral  being  of  her 
first  grandchild?  She  had  seldom,  if  ever,  been 
vituperative  with  her  idolized  son,  but  she  brought 
all  the  powers  of  denunciation  to  bear  upon  his 
mind  and  affections  in  the  final  battle  of  right  against 
wrong.  When  he  steadfastly  supported  his  wife's 
views  and  resolution,  she  shut  herself  up  in  her 
room  for  three  days,  and  would  admit  no  visitor 
except  her  adopted  daughter. 

In  the  revery  that  bound  her  thoughts  to  the 
rack  of  memory,  Beth  writhed  and  moaned  feebly. 

To  no  mortal  confidante  could  she  ever  speak  of 
the  varied  tortures  of  those  days.  When  the  mother 
finally  yielded  to  the  inevitable  and  resumed  her 
position  as  nominal  head  of  the  home — in  face  and 
carriage  she  bore  the  signs  of  struggle  and  defeat. 
The  baby  was  consigned  to  the  care  of  the  wet- 
nurse,  and  the  vanquished  grandparent  made  no 
sign  of  repugnance  to  what  she  had  told  Beth,  over 
and  over,  was  "a  burning  disgrace  to  the  family — • 
an  outrage  to  decency  that  was  never  allowed  by 
any  of  the  connection,  unless  in  the  event  of  the 
mother's  death.  And  that,"  she  broke  out  bit- 
terly during  one  repetition  of  the  protest,  "might 
be  the  best  thing  that  could  happen  in  this  case!" 

The  awful  admission  had  never  been  repeated  by 
the  solitary  auditor.  She  put  it  away  now  as  too 
terrible  to  be  recalled. 

Baby  Helen  was  six  months  old  when  the  Virginia 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         27 

climate  began  to  tell  adversely  upon  Cecile.  She 
pined  in  the  monotony  of  a  rural  community  in 
which  the  diversions  she  had  introduced  now  palled 
upon  her.  She  had  travelled  on  both  sides  of  the 
ocean,  and  change  was  a  prune  necessity  of  her 
being. 

Paul's  acquiescence  in  her  every  caprice  may 
have  become  irksome  slavery  by  the  time  he  had 
accompanied  her  to  watering-place  and  seashore, 
season  after  season,  and  spent  much  of  his  substance 
in  riotous  specialists'  bills.  No  intimation  of  this 
in  word,  look,  or  gesture  corroborated  the  sus- 
picions which  former  comrades  dared  whisper  among 
themselves.  When  Cecile  made  known  to  him  her 
conviction  that  she  was  in  a  decline,  and  that 
nothing  could  save  her  life  except  a  long  sojourn 
in  her  beloved  old  home,  he  bowed  to  the  mandate 
with  grace  that  never  forsook  him.  Less  than  half 
a  dozen  sentences  of  the  recital  to  Helen  carried  the 
pitiful  story  to  a  conclusion. 

Against  her  will,  the  woman  who  had  filled  what 
should  have  been  the  mother's  place  to  the  deserted 
infant,  saw,  as  if  it  had  happened  but  yesterday, 
the  open  grave  under  the  weeping  willow,  the  heaps 
of  sodden  earth  defining  the  awesome  oblong,  and 
beyond  the  red-brown  ridges  a  group  of  men  and 
women,  collected  hastily  to  assist  in  the  last  rites. 
There  was  a  short  committal  prayer  after  the  leaden 
coffin  was  lowered  to  its  resting-place,  then  slow 
spadefuls  of  redder  clay  filled  in  the  pit. 

And  all  this  time  the  white  drawn  face  of  the 


28         THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

chief  mourner  (she  had  nearly  said  "the  only 
mourner")  haunted  her  like  a  spectre  of  his  once 
blithe  and  buoyant  self.  She  had  cried  out  to  God 
that  night  upon  her  knees  beside  his  baby's  crib, 
that  the  punishment  for  a  single  false  step  was  too 
great.  She  repeated  the  passionate  protest  now 
mentally. 

From  that  crucial  period  to  this,  Paul  Carrington 
had  played  the  man  in  every  relation  of  life.  How 
gallantly  she  could  have  told  more  eloquently  than 
any  other  witness  of  his  demeanor  and  work.  Surely, 
if  there  were  mercy  in  heaven  and  justice  upon 
earth,  he  must  some  day  see  of  the  travail  of  his 
heroic  soul  and  be  consoled,  if  not  "satisfied." 

God  grant  that  the  child  who  grew  to  look  more 
like  her  mother  every  day — avid  of  personal  enjoy- 
ment, brilliant  in  speech  as  in  face — might  not  in- 
augurate a  second  era  of  self-immolation  for  the  two 
who  loved  her  best ! 


CHAPTER  III 

"THE  rounds  of  the  plantation,"  upon  which 
Helen  had  said  her  father  and  grandmother  were 
bent,  was  a  triweekly  function  all  summer  long. 
For  shrewd  and  cogent  reasons,  it  was  performed 
with  systematic  irregularity  as  regarded  the  days 
of  the  week.  If  the  tour  of  inspection  were  to  be 
confidently  anticipated  on  Monday,  everything 
would  be  in  apple-pie  order  on  that  day,  whatever 
might  be  the  aspect  of  field,  barn,  and  woodland 
for  the  five  "workadays"  succeeding  it.  If  the 
apparition  of  the  "no- top"  buggy  and  the  sleek 
chestnut  roadster  driven  by  "Marse  Paul,"  accom- 
panied by  the  "mistis,"  haunted  the  gangs  of  field- 
hands  on  Tuesday  of  this  week,  again  on  Saturday, 
next  week  on  Wednesday  and  Friday,  it  was  beyond 
the  power  of  mortal  calculations  to  forecast  future 
visitations. 

"Ung'  Cyrus,"  the  headman  for  a  score  of  years, 
and  noted  as  "mighty  preverlent  in  pra'r,"  found  a 
Scripture  parallel  in  the  situation  which  he  improved 
to  edification  at  a  cabin-meeting  when  madcap 
Helen  had  stolen  to  the  back  window  with  a  couple 
of  girls  as  bent  upon  fun,  and  heard  it  all: 

"When  de  Marster  of  us  all,  white  and  black, 
bon'  an'  free,  visits  His  plantation  which  is  de  worl' 
— He  comes  same  like  de  marster  an'  mistis  of  High 

29 


30         THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

Hill  keeps  an  eye  'pon  we-all,  thar  servants.  He 
don'  soun'  a  trumpet  before  Him" — suiting  the 
action  to  the  word  by  bringing  his  hollowed  hands 
together  and  "tooting"  through  them.  "He  comes 
when  He  listeth — that  means  when  He  chooses, 
and  when  He  thinks  we  need  Him  mos',  whether  we 
know  it  or  not.  An'  what  I  been  said  one  hundred 
times,  to  you  young  folks  what  ain't  got  settled  to 
your  work,  I  say  to  you  all  in  dis  here  room,  dis 
blessed  arternoon — WATCH  ! " 

The  exhortation  may  have  had  something  to  do 
with  the  established  fact  that  the  High  Hill  plan- 
tation had  maintained  for  a  half-century  the  reputa- 
tion for  skilful  farming  and  profitable  results  that 
kept  it  in  the  vanguard  of  agricultural  enterprise  in 
a  State  renowned  for  producing  the  finest  tobacco 
and  wheat  sent  to  the  Southern  market.  It  is  cer- 
tain that  the  model  plantation  was  a  monumental 
tribute  to  the  talent  and  energy  of  the  woman  who 
had  held  the  reins  of  government  since  her  hus- 
band's decease.  It  was  what  might  be  called — 
figuratively — an  open  secret  that  hers  was  the  ruling 
spirit  and  guiding  hand  before  the  event  that  re- 
moved Edmund  Travers  Carrington,  Esquire,  from 
the  scene  of  earthly  action.  The  sobriquet  embody- 
ing his  initials,  which  had  kindled  Beth  to  generous 
indignation,  was  fastened  upon  him  by  disrespectful 
wits  early  in  his  wedded  life. 

The  tour  of  inspection  of  this  particular  forenoon 
had  been  longer  than  usual.  It  was  eleven  o'clock 
when  the  topless  buggy  was  driven  into  the  stable- 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         31 

yard  by  a  groom,  and  Madam  Carrington  was  es- 
corted by  her  son  around  to  the  side-porch  where 
Beth  and  Helen  were  sitting,  work-baskets  in  lap. 
Her  half-hour  nap  had  made  the  volatile  sprite  over 
as  good  as  new.  Eyes  and  lips  laughed  together  as 
she  jumped  up  to  draw  an  armchair  forward  for 
her  grandmother,  and  untied  the  strings  of  the  big 
" calash"  of  drawn  gray  silk  the  wearer  refused  to 
discard  in  favor  of  the  lighter  sunbonnets  affected 
by  her  acquaintances  throughout  the  region. 

"You  have  stayed  out  so  long  that  you  are  tired 
and  hot — my  !  how  hot !"  scolded  the  granddaughter 
with  the  insolence  of  youth.  "Sit  right  down  here ! 
out  of  the  draft!  You  might  catch  your  death  of 
cold !  You  must  cool  off  a  little  before  you  have 
your  snack !  It  has  been  ready  this  great  while." 

"Only  five  minutes  by  the  hall-clock,  my  dear!" 
admonished  Beth's  gentlest  tone.  "Here  comes 
Tom  with  the  rest  of  it." 

The  colored  footman  set  down  his  tray  upon  a 
round  table  and  shifted  it  to  a  spot  directly  in  front 
of  his  mistress. 

Breakfast  was  served  at  High  Hill  for  eight  months 
of  the  year  at  half  past  seven  o'clock.  The  dinner- 
hour  in  the  country  was  two,  in  town,  three.  The 
foodless  stretch  of  the  intervening  hours  was  broken 
by  a  "snack,"  more  or  less  abundant  as  suited  the 
tastes  of  different  families.  Unless  the  day  were 
very  stormy,  the  refection  at  High  Hill  was  par- 
taken of  in  summer  upon  the  side-porch.  A  door 
led  directly  into  the  dining-room,  and  the  location 


32         THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

was  convenient,  besides  being  deliciously  cool,  and 
screened  from  showers  and  gusts  by  the  thick  net- 
work of  vines. 

"  Afternoon- tea  "  would  be  unknown  to  American 
house-mothers  for  threescore  years  to  come,  or 
iced  tea  a  la  Russe  would  have  usurped  the  place 
of  the  chilled  raspberry  shrub  which  was  filming 
the  outside  of  the  tall  silver  pitcher.  There  was 
milk  for  Helen  and  iced  water  for  everybody.  A 
plate  piled  with  "Mam'  Tina's"  incomparable 
" wafers"  flanked  the  pitcher  upon  one  side,  and 
another  of  sponge-cake  completed  the  intermediary 
repast. 

The  author  of  the  epigrammatic  definition  of 
afternoon- tea — "A  reflection  upon  luncheon  and  an 
insult  to  dinner" — had 'not  been  born.  Madam 
Carrington  would  have  set  the  seal  of  her  august 
approval  upon  it. 

"A  snack,"  she  was  wont  to  say,  "is  not — strictly 
speaking — a  meal.  It  is  only  a  stay  to  the  stomach 
which  would,  without  it,  become  faint  and  incapable 
of  digesting  food  properly."  Therefore,  she  dis- 
countenanced the  practice  of  certain  less  enlightened 
house-mothers  of  dulling  appetite  by  hot  breads 
and  cold  meats  with  marmalade  and  pickles  and, 
in  their  season,  melons  and  roasted  green  corn. 
The  dignified  chatelaine  was  marvellously  wise  for 
her  generation  in  other  matters  than  dietetics  and 
fine  cookery. 

Now  that  her  calash — very  like  a  barouche-top 
in  shape  and  not  so  far  inferior  in  size  as  a  twentieth- 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         33 

century  woman  might  imagine — was  laid  aside,  one 
could  easily  credit  the  encomium  passed  upon  her  by 
the  ancient  admirer  and  overheard  by  her  grand- 
daughter. Her  eyes  were  unfaded,  her  color  was 
clear  and  healthy;  her  teeth  were  sound,  and  her 
skin — which  tradition  reported  to  have  been  a  mir- 
acle of  smoothness  and  bloom  in  her  far-off  youth 
— was  unwrinkled,  although  lines  about  the  mouth 
and  eyes  bore  witness  to  sorrow  and  conflict.  Her 
dark  hair,  heavily  stippled  with  silver,  was  banded 
evenly  beneath  the  fluted  border  of  a  cap  not  un- 
like the  "mob"  at  which  we  smile  in  seeing  it  in 
old  portraits  and  engravings.  It  was  of  the  finest 
lace  and  became  her  rarely.  Every  other  elderly 
gentlewoman  in  the  county  hid  her  hair,  or  the  loss 
of  it,  under  a  false  front  which  merited  the  name  so 
shamelessly  that  the  obviousness  of  the  "deception" 
was  extenuation.  Madam  Carrington  defied  con- 
vention and  "wore  her  own  hair."  She  clung  faith- 
fully to  the  immemorial  custom  of  the  Southern 
widow  of  never  doffing  her  "black"  except  when 
she  alternated  it  with  white,  accentuated  by  black 
"love"  ribbons.  A  rosette  of  the  same  nestled  in 
the  frills  that  were  pronounced  above  the  "part" 
in  the  banded  hair,  and  the  strings  of  crepy 
ribbon,  the  name  of  which  suggested  bereavement 
and  constant  remembrance,  were  knotted  under 
the  slightly  doubled  chin.  Her  gown  was  of  cam- 
bric with  never  a  crease  in  the  skirt  to  betray  the 
excursion  of  the  forenoon.  She  neither  panted  nor 
mumbled  in  her  talk. 


34         THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

Before  she  tasted  the  shrub  poured  out  for  her 
by  her  son,  she  turned  to  Beth: 

"Have  you  seen  Mr.  Rice  since  we  went  out? 
He  ought  to  have  something  to  eat.  I  fancied  that 
his  appetite  was  not  quite  up  to  the  mark  at  break- 
fast." 

Beth  touched  a  hand-bell  left  by  the  footman 
within  her  reach.  And  to  Tom,  when  he  appeared, 
she  said:  "Find  Mr.  Rice  and  tell  him  we  should 
be  glad  to  have  him  take  a  glass  of  something  cool 
with  us.  It  is  getting  very  hot.  And  say  that 
your  mistress  and  Master  Paul  have  come  in." 

In  five  minutes  footsteps  on  the  walk  announced 
the  coming  of  a  little  gentleman,  who  removed  his 
broad-brimmed  straw  hat  from  a  bald  head  in 
mounting  the  steps.  Evidently  a  gentleman,  yet 
his  garb  hardly  warranted  the  presumption.  Coat, 
waistcoat,  and  trousers  were  of  unbleached  muslin 
— yclept  "cotton  cloth,"  in  Virginia — and  fitted 
him  as  well  as  they  might  have  fitted  any  other 
man  of  equal  height.  They  were  made — as  were  the 
clothes  of  all  the  negro  "hands" — by  a  plantation 
seamstress,  and  betrayed  the  fact  in  every  line. 
The  coat  bagged  between  the  shoulders  and  sagged 
in  the  skirt;  the  trousers  made  a  swishing  noise  at 
the  knees  as  he  walked. 

Paul  brought  forward  a  chair,  and  Helen  hastened 
to  pour  out  a  brimming  glass  of  the  ruby  "shrub." 

He  looked  warm  and  weary,  but  he  thanked  both 
of  them  before  mopping  his  forehead  and  his  shining 
pate  with  a  damp  silk  handkerchief.  His  voice 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         35 

was  husky  and  weak,  and  he  sipped  the  ice-cold 
beverage  as  a  child  might  shiver  away  from  a  hot 
drink. 

It  is  essential  to  explain  here  the  position  held  by 
this  man  in  the  family  of  an  erstwhile  parishioner. 
The  Presbyterian  church  of  Mount  Hor  was  his 
first  and  only  charge.  He  had  come  to  it  as  a  licen- 
tiate, and  been  ordained  to  the  Gospel  ministry  in 
the  building  which  was  demolished  at  a  later  date 
to  make  room  for  a  larger  "edifice"  erected  upon 
foundations  laid  a  century  before. 

"When" — as  Madam  Carrington  was  wont  to  re- 
mark impressively — "masons  were  honest.  Mount 
Hor  is  literally  founded  upon  a  rock,  and  the  masonry 
within  the  excavation  was  as  solid  as  the  stone  itself 
when  it  was  uncovered.  They  don't  do  such  work 
now ! " 

She  was  not  the  only  one  of  the  "older  members" 
who  worshipped  the  God  of  their  fathers  with  more 
fervor  of  devotion  for  the  knowledge  that  beneath 
beams  and  flooring  was  the  ancient  foundation — 
consecrated  by  ancestors  who 

"Kept  unstained  what  there  they  found, 
Freedom  to  worship  God." 

It  was  not  to  be  marvelled  at  that  the  blend  of 
Huguenot  blood  with  a  strong  strain  of  Scotch- 
Irish  should  have  held  the  church  firm  to  the  faith 
delivered  to  the  fathers.  Nor — as  was  piously  be- 
lieved and  openly  asserted  by  pastors  and  parish- 


36         THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HELL 

loners — that  an  especial  blessing  abode  with  the 
flock  that  made  the  wilderness  of  the  New  World 
to  blossom  as  the  rose.  It  was  a  large  and  pros- 
perous flock  over  which  the  Reverend  Mahlon  Rice 
was  ordained  to  minister  by  East  Manover  Pres- 
bytery. He  was  twenty-four  years  old,  and  that 
was  more  than  twenty  years  ago.  He  was  unmar- 
ried, but  his  sister  lived  with  him. 

When  the  very  slender  bond  of  nominal  union  of 
the  State  with  the  Church  of  England  parted  natu- 
rally and  quietly,  The  Glebe,  erected  a  score  of 
years  earlier  upon  a  small  farm  within  a  couple  of 
miles  of  High  Hill,  passed  into  the  hands  of  Paul 
Carrington  the  Third,  and  was  by  him  made  over 
formally  as  a  parsonage  to  the  church  to  which  he 
belonged.  With  true  Virginian  aversion  to  unneces- 
sary changes  in  established  methods,  the  house  and 
land  were  The  Glebe  long  after  tenants  and  neigh- 
bors had  forgotten  the  origin  of  the  name. 

"The  minister's"  family  had  always  been  on  in- 
timate terms  with  the  High  Hill  Carringtons.  Next 
to  her  own  home  and  kindred,  the  mistress  of  the 
stately  house  on  the  hill  gave  a  place  in  her  heart 
to  her  church.  The  highest  Anglican  could  not  have 
pronounced  the  word  more  reverently.  She  con- 
tributed liberally  of  her  wealth  for  the  support  of 
its  temporal  interests.  Yet  more  liberal  and  far 
more  effective  was  the  consecration  of  time  and 
energy  to  the  furtherance  of  the  higher  purposes  and 
holy  possibilities  of  the  spiritual  Zion  of  which  the 
temporal  was  but  a  faint  symbol  and  antepast. 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL          37 

Mahlon  Rice  and  his  sister  Naomi  were  her  guests 
for  a  month  while  The  Glebe  was  undergoing  repairs 
and  alterations  she  deemed  essential  for  the  resi- 
dence of  the  newcomers.  It  was  she  who  secretly 
incited  and  engineered  the  movement  on  the  part  of 
house-mothers  that  stocked  storeroom,  smoke-house, 
and  stables  with  provisions  and  industrial  imple- 
ments. She  it  was  who  confidentially  "lent"  two 
of  her  own  trained  servants,  an  able-bodied  man 
and  his  wife,  to  the  brother  and  sister,  and  gave  a 
fine  young  horse  for  the  use  of  the  pastor  in  his 
rounds  of  the  extensive  area  covered  by  the  parish. 
All  this  was  executed  with  delicacy  and  address 
that  left  the  recipients  but  dimly  aware  of  the  extent 
of  their  obligations  to  the  author  of  manifold  bene- 
fits. It  was  not  strange  that,  under  auspices  such 
as  these,  the  incumbent  of  Mount  Hor  should  be 
able  to  report  truthfully,  and  with  devout  gratitude 
at  spring  and  fall  sessions  of  his  presbytery,  that 
the  "work  of  the  Lord  was  prospering  in  his  hands." 
He  had  a  genius  for  organization,  and  the  Sunday- 
school  and  weekly-catechism  class  established  by 
himself  and  carried  forward  zealously  by  devoted 
lieutenants,  were  a  matter  of  State  pride. 

Each  church  organization  was  a  close  corporation, 
and  this  to  an  extent  incomprehensible  to  the  Chris- 
tians in  this  day  of  personal  service  and  extensions 
of  every  conceivable  name  and  aim.  Once  a  year, 
perhaps,  a  returned  missionary  occupied  the  Mount 
Hor  pulpit  and  "presented  his  cause."  Whether  he 
were  from  the  South  Sea  Islands  or  Lapland,  he 


38         THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

was  sure — knowing  the  reputation  of  the  Mount 
Hor-ites — of  a  handsome  collection  at  the  conclu- 
sion of  the  service,  and  eager  hospitality  during  the 
few  days  he  could  spare  from  his  itinerary.  In  the 
third  year  of  Mr.  Rice's  incumbency,  Madam  Car- 
rington  instigated  and  pushed  on  into  fairly  success- 
ful operation  a  Ladies'  Foreign  Missionary  Society, 
which  contributed  regularly,  and  in  no  niggardly 
measure,  boxes  of  clothing,  religious  reading,  and 
toys  for  native  children,  to  be  duly  forwarded  to 
Greece  or  Liberia. 

Thus  ran  on  the  shining  current  of  home  and 
church  life — broken  into,  but  not  up,  for  a  season 
by  the  brilliant  episode  of  Cecile  Carrington's 
career.  Like  the  fall  of  a  meteoric  stone  into  a 
landlocked  bay,  the  whole  course  of  nature  was 
changed  for  the  time.  The  subsiding  waves  re- 
stored the  dear  familiar  scene  to  placidity. 

The  nameless  grave  in  the  sequestered  graveyard 
had  been  mounded  by  the  snow-drifts  of  ten  winters 
when  gentle  Naomi  Rice,  whom  the  ruling  passion 
of  her  life — devotion  to  her  only  brother — alone  re- 
deemed from  neutral-colored  commonplaceness — 
sickened  and  died  as  quietly  as  she  had  lived. 
Close  upon  this  followed  the  pastor's  own  illness. 
He  had  ridden  on  horseback  ten  miles  through  a 
furious  storm  to  visit  a  sick  parishioner,  returning 
to  his  desolate  home,  wet  to  the  skin  and  shivering 
in  a  violent  chill.  Word  of  his  illness  was  carried 
to  High  Hill  late  that  night.  The  next  morning 
brought  Madam  Carrington's  chariot  to  the  door  of 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         39 

The  Glebe.  She  alighted  from  it  with  her  son,  fol- 
lowed by  her  own  maid,  bearing  a  basket  of  "com- 
forts" the  lady  foresaw  would  be  needed  in  a  bachelor 
establishment.  A  brief  and  thorough  survey  of 
prevailing  conditions  was  terminated  by  a  coup 
d'etat  that  took  by  surprise  even  Beth,  waiting 
anxiously  at  home  for  news  of  the  expedition.  The 
sick  man  was  done  up  skilfully  in  blankets  and  borne 
to  the  carriage  in  the  strong  arms  of  Paul  Carring- 
ton.  The  carriage-driver — who  would  be  a  "coach- 
man" now — Madam,  and  her  maid  had  already  im- 
provised a  bed  of  pillows  and  boards  in  the  vehicle. 
Paul,  in  one  corner  of  the  back  seat,  supported  the 
unconscious  man  as  he  might  a  child  during  the 
slow  drive  to  High  Hill. 

Meanwhile  the  Rices'  servant  had  galloped  ahead 
to  prepare  the  household  for  the  unexpected  guest. 
Within  an  hour  the  family  doctor  was  in  attendance 
upon  a  delirious  patient,  installed  in  the  best  guest 
chamber  of  the  mansion,  and  the  entire  corps  of 
the  plantation  was  at  his  service. 

Before  he  was  able  to  walk  down  stairs  all  his 
personal  effects  were  transferred  from  The  Glebe  to 
what  he  was  bidden  to  consider  his  home  as  long  as 
he  would  make  his  hosts  happy  by  remaining  with 
them. 

He  was  destined  to  have  no  other  earthly  habita- 
tion. When  what  the  doctor  diagnosed  as  "quinsy," 
yielded  to  remedial  measures,  and  pitiable  weakness 
more  slowly  to  loving  nursing  and  such  generous 
diet  as  the  best  cook  in  the  county  served  for  him 


40         THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

under  her  mistress's  supervision — it  was  apparent 
that  permanent  damage  had  been  wrought  upon  a 
system  never  robust,  albeit  tenacious  of  vital  forces. 

What  went  by  the  name  of  "  minister's  sore  throat " 
was  then  comparatively  a  new  malady,  but  already 
enough  was  known  of  it  to  excite  curiosity  among 
the  laity,  and  apprehension  in  clerical  circles. 
Oddly  enough,  the  victims,  so  far  as  heard  from  in 
central  Virginia,  were  invariably  Presbyterians  and 
Episcopalians — a  circumstance  that  created  a  lively 
sensation  among  Baptists  and  Methodists.  For, 
be  it  known  to  modern  readers,  written  sermons  were 
discountenanced  by  these  communions.  That  holy 
men  of  old  spake  as  the  Holy  Ghost  moved  them 
was  a  warrant  that  had  the  force  of  an  edict  in  the 
opinion  of  these  successors  of  the  apostles.  Ser- 
mons should  be  thought  out  with  prayer  and  wrest- 
lings of  spirit,  in  secret  communion  with  the  Master 
of  souls.  This  done,  He  might  be  trusted  to  put,  and 
to  keep,  the  right  words  into  His  servants'  mouths. 
The  Presbyterian  and  Episcopal  divine  was,  in  com- 
mon parlance,  "liberally  educated,"  and  carried  the 
training  of  college  and  theological  seminary  into  the 
pulpit  with  him.  This  took  the  form  of  written 
notes,  to  be  consulted  at  need  or  will,  by  the  preacher 
of  discourses  written  out  in  full  from  text  to  "Finally, 
brethren" — "delivered"  with  or  without  emphasis 
and  discretion,  as  talent,  or  practice,  or  native  apti- 
tude for  oratory,  lent  force  and  freedom  of  speech. 

"Minister's  sore  throat" — ingenious  opponents  of 
pulpit-readings  hi  contradistinction  to  extemporane- 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         41 

ous  speaking,  contended — was  due  to  the  unnatural 
contraction  of,  and  pressure  upon  the  vocal  organs 
by  the  lowered  chin  in  the  act  of  reading  aloud  from 
a  MS.  laid  upon  the  desk  or  table,  behind  which  the 
speaker  stood.  It  should  have  been  more  preva- 
lent with  Episcopalians,  who  read  the  entire  service, 
prayers  and  all.  That  statistics  did  not  support 
this  theory  was  readily  explained  by  the  patent  fact 
that  the  sermon  in  a  liturgical  church  was  proverbi- 
ally short,  and  subordinate  hi  importance  to  readings 
from  the  prayer-book. 

Mr.  Rice's  sermons  were  never  long,  but  he  wrote 
every  line  and  conned  each  thoughtfully  afterward. 
College  professors  and  literary  visitors  to  the  neigh- 
borhood had  been  heard  to  say  that  every  word 
might  be  printed  as  it  fell  from  his  lips,  without  cor- 
rection from  editor  or  proof-reader. 

Sweeping  hypotheses  aside,  it  is  enough  for  us  to 
know  that  the  new  disease  had  the  faithful  shepherd 
of  the  Mount  Hor  flock  by  the  throat  in  a  grip  that 
robbed  him  of  profession  and  office,  and,  for  long, 
of  physical  vigor.  It  was  a  voiceless  spectre  of  his 
former  erect  and  buoyant  self  who  was  tended  by 
Madam  and  her  aides,  until,  one  bleak  November 
day,  he  bade  farewell  to  his  motherly  hostess  and 
accompanied  her  son  to  Richmond  en  route  for  New 
York.  Thence  they  were  to  sail  for  Nice  with  the 
anticipation  of  a  winter  in  Italy. 

In  a  life  which  was  affluent  in  gracious  benefits 
to  his  fellow-men,  Paul  Carrington  was  never  more 
royally  beneficent  than  in  charging  himself  with 


42         THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

the  task  of  bringing  back  health  and  hope  to  a  wreck 
that  contrasted  pitifully  with  the  superbly  sane 
manhood  of  his  guardian.  The  conception  and  exe- 
cution of  the  scheme  were  Paul's  own,  although 
warmly  approved  and  abetted  by  the  mother,  whose 
parting  with  him  wrung  her  strong  heart  to  breaking. 

She  said,  and  candidly,  that  she  was  repaid  for 
all  the  separation  had  cost  her  when,  in  the  flush  and 
fragrance  of  mid-May,  her  "boy"  brought  home 
the  whilom  patient,  so  nearly  well  physically  and 
so  thoroughly  himself  in  mind  and  mood,  that  the 
whole  community  held  high  jubilation  for  weeks 
together.  "Nearly  well  physically,"  with  one 
drawback,  the  growing  perception  of  which  sub- 
dued the  general  rejoicing  into  loving  solicitude. 
The  injury  wrought  upon  the  vocal  organs  by  ill- 
ness was  beyond  repair  by  medicines  or  climate. 
He  would  never  be  able  to  preach  again.  Resonance 
and  power  had  departed  forever  from  the  voice  that 
for  strength  and  sweetness  had  had  no  equal  in  the 
bounds  of  presbytery  or  synod.  Madam  Carring- 
ton  was  measurably  prepared  for  the  truth  by 
Paul's  letters,  and,  as  usually  came  to  pass  when 
mother  and  son  took  counsel  together  upon  weighty 
issues,  they  had  an  expedient  ready  to  meet  the 
crisis. 

"The  Office,"  a  detached  building  usually  but  a 
story  in  height,  was  so  common  an  adjunct  of  the 
Virginia  home,  that  the  lack  of  it  was  exceptional. 
To  this  day  it  is  a  matter  of  conjecture  for  what 
purpose  these  buildings  were  erected,  and  why  they 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         43 

invariably  bore  the  name  of  "office."  Few  of  the 
early  planters  were  doctors,  or  practising  lawyers, 
although  subsequently  the  latter  profession  became 
popular  with  younger  sons  and  embryo  politicians. 
One  or  two  such  instances  in  preceding  generations 
may  have  fixed  the  title  upon  what  was  doubtless 
built  as  a  school-room,  with  an  upper  story  for  the 
tutor's  dormitory.  The  office  at  High  Hill  was  a 
stone's  throw  from  the  dwelling,  in  a  shaded  corner 
of  the  yard,  and  fronted  the  plantation  road  leading 
from  the  nearest  highway.  Into  this  "office"  had 
been  packed  Mr.  Rice's  furniture  and  books  when 
The  Glebe  was  vacated.  Madam  Carrington  had 
the  key  during  his  absence  abroad.  The  day  suc- 
ceeding his  arrival  she  commissioned  Paul  to  induct 
his  friend  into  quarters  prepared  for  his  occupancy. 
"As  long  as  you  will  make  us  happy  by  staying, 
dear  old  fellow,"  was  the  sequel  to  the  invitation. 
"We  will  not  give  you  up  until  you  are  tired  of  us. 
That  is  settled !  Now,  listen ! " 

In  five  minutes  he  had  well  nigh  convinced  the 
amazed  hearer  that  affairs  at  High  Hill  could  not 
be  rightly  administered  without  the  co-operation  of 
another  white  man.  His  mother,  in  particular,  he 
urged,  was  no  longer  young,  and  she  had  leaned  too 
long  upon  the  judgment  and  intelligent  sympathy 
of  one  whom  she  loved  as  a  son,  to  be  deprived  of 
these  now. 

"But  all  this  is  a  waste  of  words — "  Paul  wound 
up  by  saying.  "Here  you  are,  and  here  you  will 
stay,  please  God,  while  we  both  live." 


44         THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

Visits  of  indefinite  length  were  a  feature  in  that 
age  and  region,  which  did  much  to  earn  for  the  State 
the  reputation  for  abounding  and  gracious  hos- 
pitality it  enjoys  to  this  day.  As  I  write,  there 
recurs  to  me  an  instance  which  was  not  accounted 
remarkable  at  the  time,  of  an  elderly  distant  cousin- 
in-law  who  prolonged  a  visit  of  a  week  into  five  years, 
making  himself  at  home  so  agreeably  and  usefully 
that  hosts  and  acquaintances  ceased  to  think  or  to 
speak  of  him  as  a  guest. 

When,  after  waiting  a  decent  time  as  behooved 
a  bereaved  congregation,  Mount  Hor  made  out  a 
call  to  a  younger  man  with  aggressive  tendencies, 
and  what  a  brother  clergyman  dryly  characterized 
as  "a  laudable  degree  of  self-appreciation,"  Mr. 
Rice  was  referred  to  at  the  meeting  of  Presbytery 
called  for  the  installation,  as  "our  beloved  brother 
whose  faithful  labors  in  this  quarter  of  the  vineyard 
will  bear  fruit  for  many  years  to  come." 

At  the  numerous  feasts  of  welcome  made  in  honor 
of  the  new  shepherd,  the  former  incumbent,  with 
humility  that  had  in  it  the  elements  of  real  dignity, 
took  a  lower  seat,  with  no  expectation  of  being 
bidden  to  go  up  higher. 

In  the  High  Hill  family  he  was  chaplain,  adviser, 
comforter,  and  colleague  in  affairs,  temporal,  spirit- 
ual, and  intellectual.  He  was  scholarly  in  taste  and 
habit,  and  ever  ready  to  share  gleanings  of  fact 
and  riches  of  thought  with  his  best-beloved  friends. 
He  laid  out  courses  of  reading  for  Beth,  who  was 
Helen's  governess  until  the  girl  went  to  the  Phila- 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         45 

delphia  seminary.  The  two  preceptors  fitted  the 
child  so  well  for  the  classes  she  entered  there  that 
her  proficiency  in  more  than  one  branch  of  education 
received  honorable  mention  from  principal  and 
teachers. 

Long  before  his  sister's  death  left  him  alone  in 
the  world,  Mahlon  Rice  had  made  choice  of  poultry- 
raising  as  a  special  study  and  active  pursuit.  At 
High  Hill  the  fad  bloomed  into  an  avocation.  Under 
his  enlightened  management,  the  chicken-houses 
and  "runs"  of  the  estate  became  famous  all  over 
the  county.  He  wrote  articles  upon  the  poultry- 
yard  which  were  published  in  The  Farmer's  Regis- 
ter— the  one  agricultural  periodical  of  the  South — 
and  brought  him  letters  of  congratulation  and  in- 
quiry from  four  different  States.  If  he  imagined, 
in  the  humility  that  never  approximated  its  degen- 
erate parasite,  humiliation — that  he  occupied  a 
mere  niche  in  the  household  he  served  with  heart 
and  soul — he  yet  stood  upon  a  right  goodly  pedestal. 


CHAPTER  IV 

"I  SHOULD — first  of  all — have  apologized  to  you, 
Madam,  and  to  the  young  ladies  for  appearing  in 
your  presence  in  this  sorry  garb,"  said  the  little 
minister,  setting  down  the  emptied  glass  with  a 
comprehensive  bow,  addressed  chiefly  to  Madam 
Carrington,  then  including  the  other  two.  "I  was 
on  my  way  to  my  room  to  make  the  needful  changes 
when  I  received  your  tempting  invitation,  I  was 
thirsty,  the  day  is  warm — and  I  knew  what  awaited 
me  here!" 

A  second  bow  left  no  need  of  further  speech. 
In  attire,  he  might  be  the  peasant.  In  deportment 
and  speech  he  was  a  Chesterfield.  Oliver  Wendell 
Holmes  characterized  the  school  to  which  this  man 
and  his  compeers  belonged  as  "the  Brahmin  Caste." 
One  of  my  girlish  reminiscences  is  of  one  of  the 
vast,  informal  guild  who  had  taken  the  place  of  a 
missing  ploughman  when  laborers  were  scarce  and 
plantation  work  was  pressing.  The  young  fellow 
had  driven  a  straight  furrow  all  day,  and  was  on 
his  way  home,  bareheaded,  and  in  his  shirt-sleeves 
when  he  espied  his  sister  and  a  schoolmate  coming 
to  meet  him.  Without  seeming  to  see  them,  he 
slipped  into  a  thicket  to  put  on  the  coat  thrown 
over  his  arm,  and  to  wipe  his  face  dry.  The  instinct 

46 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         47 

was  inborn,  and  nourished  by  early  training  in  the 
duty  he  owed  to  himself  and  to  women. 

Madam  met  the  apology  indulgently:  "Don't 
trouble  yourself  to  make  explanations  on  this  hot 
day.  We  all  understand  that  broadcloth  and  fine 
linen  would  be  out  of  place  in  the  'hennery."1 

Beth  seconded  her  smilingly: 

"I  hope  Mrs.  Dorking  and  the  baby  Dorkings 
are  doing  well?  When  may  we  see  them?" 

"Thank  you !  They  could  hardly  be  doing  better. 
I  hope  to  show  them  to  you  in  a  couple  of  days. 
There  are  ten  of  them — animated  puff-balls." 

"Where  is  Dorking?"  put  in  Helen.  "And  how 
do  you  know  that  the  mother-hen  really  came  from 
England  ?  We  hear  of  so  many  cheats  and  humbugs 
nowadays  that  we  don't  know  what  to  believe." 

"Dorking  is  a  town  in  Surrey  County,  England. 
I  believe  that  my  Dame  Partlet  came  from  that 
place  because  the  men  who  consigned  her  and  her 
mate  to  me  through  a  poultry  dealer  in  New  York 
are  honest,  and  so  is  the  American  firm." 

"The  fowls  may  have  been  stolen  on  the  way, 
and  plain  vulgar  Yankee  rooster  and  hen  put  in 
the  coop.  Stranger  things  have  happened,"  per- 
sisted the  spoiled  child. 

Mr.  Rice's  good  humor  was  invincible:  "They 
carry  their  credentials  on  their  backs — in  color, 
shape,  comb — and  in  other  particulars.  I  am  toler- 
ably familiar  with  the  breed,  and  I  am  satisfied. 
If  I  were  not — why — my  dear  young  lady,  we  must 
take  some  things  in  this  world  upon  faith." 


48         THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

Paul  Carrington  leaned  against  a  pillar  of  the 
veranda  behind  his  daughter,  and  bent  to  stroke  the 
curly  head. 

"As  you  grow  older,  pet,  you  will  find  that  you 
must  believe  in  many  more  things  than  can  be 
proved.  That  is  one  of  the  hardest  lessons  youth 
has  to  learn.  I  heard  you  say  yesterday  that  you 
would  not  believe  what  you  couldn't  understand. 
That  is  the  talk  of  infidels  and  fools — and  of  little 
girls  who  will  be  wiser  when  they  know  less." 

The  saucy  face  she  lifted  to  him  was  so  like  her 
mother's  at  that  moment  that  a  pang  wrung  Beth's 
heart.  Could  he  fail  to  notice  it?  Helen's  wild 
talk  and  passionate  questioning  of  the  morning  had 
unsealed  gates  of  memory  the  confidante  had  not 
trusted  herself  to  pass  for  long,  long  years.  And 
just  where  Madam  Carrington's  chair  was,  now,  she 
had  sat  on  that  day  of  the  fateful  home-coming! 
Beth  stole  an  apprehensive  look  at  the  father's 
face.  There  was  not  a  cloud  to  betray  that  he, 
too,  was  haunted.  Cecile's  name  had  not  been  ut- 
tered in  her  hearing  since  the  dour  funeral  she  had 
lived  through  again  in  fancy,  three  hours  agone. 
She  had  no  reason  to  think  that  the  like  reticence 
did  not  control  the  intercourse  of  mother  and  son. 
Had  their  dead  past  buried  its  dead  clean  out  of 
the  reach  of  memory  and  of  regret?  Why  should 
she,  alone  of  the  trio,  be  visited  by  ghosts  that  would 
not  down  at  the  bidding  of  reason  and  pride? 

The  thread  of  musing  was  snapped  by  the  mad 
rush  around  the  corner  of  the  house  of  a  barefooted 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         49 

boy  in  a  smock  of  unbleached  cotton  cloth  that 
waved  like  a  pennon  behind  his  naked  brown  legs. 
He  brought  up  suddenly  at  the  foot  of  the  steps, 
and  squealed  his  message  between  broken  breaths: 

"Please,  mistis,  mammy  sont  me  to  tell  you  dat 
Mr.  Winston's  buggy  is  comin'  down  de  road!" 

Mr.  Rice  was  upon  his  feet  hi  a  second: 

"You  will  excuse  my  hasty  retreat,  Madam? 
Clerical  conventions  must  be  observed ! " 

Without  waiting  for  a  reply,  he  vanished  into  the 
house,  through  the  back  door  of  which  he  could 
make  good  his  retreat  to  the  office. 

A  shout  of  laughter  from  Paul,  echoed  by  the 
others  he  had  left,  followed  him. 

"Poor  fellow!"  gasped  Beth,  and  Madam  Car- 
rington: 

"But  for  the  credit  of  the  cloth  I  could  wish  that 
he  had  been  discovered  in  his  working-costume! 
Beth,  daughter !  ring  for  Tom  to  take  the  tray ! 
Helen !  tell  Tina  that  Mr.  Winston  will  be  here  to 
dinner.  My  son,  you  will  see  that  somebody  is 
ready  to  take  his  horse  !" 

She  sat  still  in  issuing  the  quiet  commands,  and 
did  not  raise  her  eyes  from  her  knitting  until  Paul 
reappeared  with  the  visitor. 

The  Reverend  John  Knox  Winston  was  from 
"the  Valley,"  a  fair  territory  bounded  and  crossed 
by  twin  spurs  of  the  mighty  Appalachian  Range, 
and  destined  to  be  known  in  post-Civil  War  history 
as  "West  Virginia."  The  liberal  admixture  of 
Scotch  and  Irish  settlers  in  the  original  population 


50         THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

lent  stability  to  their  politics,  and  buckram  to  their 
orthodoxy.  Some  of  the  ablest  divines  in  the  South- 
ern and  Western  churches,  and  erudite  professors  in 
college  and  seminary,  were  drawn  from  the  mountain 
fastnesses  among  which,  as  residents  gloried  in  relat- 
ing, the  Father  of  his  country  had  declared  his  in- 
tention to  make  his  last  stand  for  liberty  should 
the  conflict  go  against  the  Continental  forces. 

John  Knox  Winston  abated  not  one  whit  of  his 
orthodoxy  in  pitching  his  tent  in  eastern  Virginia. 
He  had  taken  his  academic  degree  in  Hampden 
Sidney  College,  and  studied  divinity  at  Princeton 
Seminary.  One  course  of  study  he  called  his 
"shield,"  the  other  his  "buckler."  Thus  panoplied, 
he  enlisted,  with  never  a  misgiving,  in  the  war  against 
the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil,  eager  to  battle 
with  spiritual  wickedness  in  high  and  in  low  places. 
In  the  sacred  desk  he  was  a  Boanerges;  out  of  it, 
genial  and  social,  kind-hearted  and  ever  ready  to 
lend  a  word  of  advice  or  of  encouragement.  A 
powerful  "revival"  had  starred  the  first  year  of  his 
pastorate,  and  similar  awakenings  of  interest  in 
personal  piety  were  not  lacking  at  any  subsequent 
period.  Congregations  were  larger  with  each  month, 
and  the  roll  of  church  members  had  gratifying 


accessions. 
tt 


Success"  was  stamped  all  over  the  man  who 
took  the  porch  steps  at  two  strides  and  gained  the 
side  of  the  hostess  with  two  more.  His  resonant 
baritone  rang  down  the  length  of  the  hall  and  rever- 
berated from  stair  to  stair. 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         51 

"Suttinly,  is  a  mighty  man  o'  God!"  murmured 
Mirny,  Beth's  maid,  who  hung  over  the  balustrade 
of  the  second  flight. 

Hat  in  hand,  he  grasped  Madam  Carrington's 
slender  fingers  in  his  mighty  fist,  and,  as  is  the  man- 
ner of  many  more  refined  folk,  when  addressing  the 
aged,  articulated  with  precision  and  adapted  the 
volume  of  sound  to  presumedly  dull  hearing. 

"I  hope  I  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  quite 
well,  my  dear  Madam  ?  Not  that  I  need  inquire ! 
You  look  to  be  in  radiant  health.  Do  not  rise,  I 
beg ! "  foiling  her  motion  to  gain  her  feet,  by  placing 
the  disengaged  hand  upon  her  shoulder.  "Miss 
Elizabeth!  you  are  well  I  hope?  Miss  Helen!  I 
am  glad  to  see  you  at  home  again !" 

Practice  had  made  his  rendition  of  the  formula 
perfect.  Conventional  observations  upon  the 
weather  and  its  beneficent  effect  upon  growing 
crops,  befitted  the  watchman  upon  the  walls  of  a 
bucolic  Zion.  It  was  easy  to  draw  Paul  and 
Beth  into  the  general  conversation  that  followed. 
"ADAPTATION"  is  the  keystone  of  the  "method" 
prescribed  by  instructors  in  pastoral  theology,  and 
this  post-graduate  had  mastered  the  Art.  As  Paul 
Carrington  hearkened  for  the  next  half  hour  to  the 
duet  between  his  mother  and  her  guest,  varied  by 
an  occasional  reference  to  himself  and  to  Beth  Moore, 
he  found  himself  wondering  if  any  other  profession, 
unless  it  were  politics,  were  better  adapted  to  stul- 
tify personal  independence  of  thought  and  action 
than  that  which  he  had  been  taught  from  his  cradle 


52         THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

to  reverence  as  the  holiest  to  which  man  could  dedi- 
cate his  life  and  all  his  powers.  The  man  before 
him  spent  at  least  one-third  of  his  waking  hours  in 
"pastoral  visitation."  It  was  safe  to  compute  that 
half  of  this  time  was  devoted  to  church-members 
whose  walk  and  conversation  attested  the  power  of 
practical  piety  upon  their  lives.  Here  and  there 
might  be  found  one  weak  in  the  faith  delivered  to 
the  fathers,  or  a  "reading  man"  with  doubts  as  to 
the  authenticity  of  the  Pentateuch,  or  the  miracle 
of  Jonah's  temporary  residence  in  the  finny  monster 
of  the  deep.  Or  a  girl  had  listened  to  a  sermon 
upon  immersion  as  the  one  and  only  means  of  sal- 
vation. All  of  them  needed  spiritual  medicament. 
The  neighborhood  was  healthy,  and  the  bill  of  mor- 
tality commendably  low.  The  shepherd's  minis- 
trations to  the  sick  and  afflicted  of  the  flock  were 
faithful,  and  brought  in  rich  returns  of  love  and 
gratitude.  This  was  legitimate  obedience  to  his 
"high  calling."  Could  the  same  be  said  of  the  dis- 
cussion of  current  events  in  county,  state,  and  nation, 
politics  taking  the  lead;  of  the  comparison  of  opin- 
ions upon  the  relative  merits  of  "Bleak  House" 
and  "Vanity  Fair,"  both  of  which  Beth  had  read 
aloud  in  the  family  last  winter?  Sensible — and  in 
the  main  bright  society  talk,  all  of  it — but  was  it 
worth  the  expenditure  of  a  third  of  the  mortal  exist- 
ence of  one  who  had  given  long  years  of  toil  to  the 
acquisition  of  that  which  would  fit  him  to  declare 
the  whole  counsel  of  God  to  a  perishing  world  ? 
Upon  the  pretext  of  overlooking  the  men  who 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         53 

were  trimming  shrubbery  upon  the  lawn,  Paul  got 
up  presently,  walked  to  the  far  end  of  the  porch, 
and  leaned  over  the  railing,  out  of  hearing  of  the 
animated  colloquy. 

The  day  was  unseasonably  warm  for  May,  but 
a  cool  breath  from  the  river  stole  to  him  across  the 
distant  low  grounds  visible  from  his  lookout.  Aro- 
matic whiffs  from  the  cut  shrubs  blended  with  the 
fragrance  of  rose  and  honeysuckle.  Beyond,  the 
gardens,  fields,  green  with  lush  grain,  stretched  to  the 
horizon  of  native  forest.  Ah !  it  was  a  fair  domain, 
this !  deeded  by  royal  grant  to  his  forefathers,  and 
held  intact  down  to  the  present  day  by  gentlemen 
without  fear  and  without  reproach !  And  there 
was  to  be  no  son  of  his  to  carry  the  line  down  to 
ensuing  generations !  His  teeth  were  locked  sav- 
agely, and  the  knuckles  whitened  in  the  hands 
clenched  upon  the  rail.  It  was  not  the  first  time 
by  many  that  a  burning  sense  of  injustice  which 
arraigned  divine  Providence  obsessed  his  soul.  The 
inspired  edict:  "  Whatsoever  a  man  soweth  that  shall 
he  also  reap,"  might  be  as  just  as  it  is  immutable, 
but  was  there  no  end  to  harvest-time?  Fifteen 
years  was  a  long  term  of  what  he  called  in  his  hot 
heart  "penal  servitude,"  enforced  for  the  hasty 
action  of  a  passionate,  headstrong  boy.  And  the 
end  might  not  be  in  sight  for  as  many  years  more. 

A  sudden  pause  in  the  chat  at  the  other  end  of 
the  porch  broke  up  his  sombre  musings.  He  turned 
to  behold  Mr.  Rice  in  irreproachable  attire  of  white 
flannel  and  cap  to  match,  presenting  the  mail-bag 


54         THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

to  the  lady  of  the  Manor.  The  receipt  of  the  tri- 
weekly mail  was  an  event  of  prime  importance  to 
the  entire  household.  It  was  brought  from  the 
post-office  three  miles  away  by  a  mounted  groom, 
who  was  fully  alive  to  the  dignity  and  responsibility 
of  the  office.  One  key  of  the  bag  was  kept  at  High 
Hill;  the  postmaster  had  the  other.  It  was  rather 
a  portmanteau  than  a  wallet,  made  of  stout  leather 
and  bound  at  the  corners  with  brass.  "HiGH  HILL  " 
was  lettered  upon  the  side — also  in  brass  that  was 
never  allowed  to  grow  dim. 

It  elicited  a  finished  descriptive  phrase  from  Mr. 
Winston : 

"'Plethoric  and  portentous/  are  the  words  that 
come  to  me  whenever  I  see  that  brought  in  full. 
And  I  am  as  pleased  as  a  boy  when  I  am  fortunate 
enough  to  be  here  to  witness  the  ceremony  of  open- 
ing it." 

Madam  was  too  much  engaged  in  unlocking  and 
emptying  the  contents  of  the  portmanteau  upon  her 
work-stand  to  heed  the  remark,  but  Helen  laughed 
and  nodded  acquiescence,  and  Beth's  silent  smile 
was,  as  ever,  ready  to  show  that  the  speaker  had 
not  cast  a  pet  saying  into  empty  air.  Madam  con- 
centrated her  attention  for  the  next  five  minutes 
upon  the  business  of  assorting  the  huge  and  motley 
pile,  assigning  papers  and  letters  to  respective  own- 
ers. Helen  was  all  a-quiver  with  expectation.  As 
the  youngest  of  the  party  she  would  be  the  last 
served,  but  in  violation  of  precedent  and  decorum, 
she  pounced  upon  the  heap  with  a  glad  cry  while 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         55 

her  grandmother  was  still  busy  with  what  the  ir- 
reverent minx  called  in  the  minister's  hearing, 
"dividing  the  sheep  from  the  goats."  That  is, 
selecting  newspapers  and  pamphlets  and  laying 
them  aside  to  proceed  at  leisure  with  the  correspond- 
ence. 

"Oh!  oh!  grandmother!  I  know  this  must  be 
for  me  from  Emily  Martin,  who  went  abroad  for 
her  vacation  with  the  French  teacher!  She  prom- 
ised to  write  as  soon  as  she  got  over.  And  that  is  a 
foreign  letter." 

The  words  tumbled  over  one  another  as  she  actu- 
ally tried  to  undo  the  hold  of  the  restraining  hand 
upon  the  pile. 

"Be  quiet,  my  child!  You  are  mistaken.  You 
are  not  the  only  one  who  has  foreign  correspondents. 
This  is  your  father's  letter." 

She  passed  it  over  to  him  with  five  or  six  others, 
and  went  on  with  the  distribution. 

Mr.  Rice  withdrew  a  little  space  with  his  budget, 
The  Farmer's  Register  being  conspicuous  among 
miscellaneous  matter.  Beth,  with  a  murmured 
apology  to  Mr.  Winston,  opened  and  glanced  over 
her  one  letter  and  then  undid  the  cover  of  Godey's 
Lady's  Book.  Madam  swept  her  mail  into  her  work- 
basket  and  carried  it  off  to  her  chamber  for  deliberate 
examination.  Helen  dropped  flat  upon  the  floor  and 
tore  open  eight  letters,  one  by  one,  before  plunging 
into  those  she  surmised  would  interest  her  most. 
Mr.  Winston  was  the  only  observer  of  the  gray  pallor 
that  drove  the  color  from  Paul  Carrington's  face 


56         THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

and  stiffened  the  lines,  as  he  opened  the  thin  blue 
sheet  his  mother  had  passed  to  him.  Then  he  crushed 
it  convulsively  in  his  hand  and  turned  abruptly 
into  the  house. 

Beth  had  a  hasty  glimpse  of  his  face  as  he  dis- 
appeared in  the  open  door  and  was  startled.  Re- 
flecting in  a  moment  that  the  odd  effect  was  doubt- 
less a  trick  of  the  light  shimmering  through  the 
vines,  she  gave  it  no  more  thought.  Two  of  the 
group  were  to  recall  the  trifling  incident  in  months 
to  come. 

An  hour  thereafter,  Paul  walked  out  upon  the 
porch,  booted  and  spurred,  hat  in  hand: 

"Mother !  I  am  obliged  to  leave  in  your  capable 
hands  the  entertainment  of  our  always-welcome 
visitor" — holding  out  his  hand  to  the  minister  with 
frank  cordiality.  "I  am  called  away  by  business 
that  may  take  me  as  far  as  the  court-house,  so  I 
shall  not  be  at  home  to  dinner."  And  in  response 
to  the  mute  inquiry  of  the  mother's  anxious  eyes: 
"Trust  me  not  to  go  fasting  because  I  am  not  eating 
in  my  own  house !  I  shall  be  at  home  in  time  for 
supper.  Good-by,  all ! " 

He  stooped  to  kiss  Helen,  who  ran  after  him  to 
the  top  of  the  steps,  waved  his  hat  smilingly  to  the 
rest,  and  was  gone. 

Helen  strolled  back,  pouting:  "I  shall  never  for- 
give him  if  he  is  not  home  in  time  to  see  my  new 
party  dress!  It  is  a  love,  Mr.  Winston!"  reading 
indulgent  sympathy  in  his  smile.  "And  I  am  to 
wear  it  for  the  first  time  to-night  to  Amelia  Carter's 
birthday  party." 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         57 

"I  am  sorry  I  am  too  old  to  be  invited,"  the 
visitor  followed  her  lead.  "But  I  shall  hope  to  have 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  the  new  beauty  before  it  has 
lost  its  first  bloom."  He  turned  to  his  hostess.  "I 
suppose  you  have  been  told,  my  dear  Madam,  so 
many  times  that  your  son  is  the  handsomest  man 
in  three  counties,  that  you  can  hear  it  again  without 
a  thrill  of  pride?" 

She  blushed  as  her  granddaughter  might.  "I 
am  more  proud  to  know  that  he  is  the  best  son  hi 
fifty  counties.  Indeed,  I  have  yet  to  see  a  better 
man !" 

The  deferential,  affirmative  bend  of  the  pastor's 
head  was  inimitable.  "Higher  praise  can  no  man 
crave  than  that  from  a  mother's  lips." 

As  if  fearing  lest  sentiment  might  lapse  into  sen- 
timentality, he  arose  and  accosted  Mr.  Rice:  "Mrs. 
Winston  will  never  forgive  me  if  I  do  not  see  the 
new  hen-house  and  the  distinguished  tenants.  May 
we  not  have  the  pleasure  of  your  company,  Miss 
Helen?" 

Decidedly  the  incumbent  of  the  Mount  Hor 
church  had  learned  to  excellent  purpose  the  article 
in  the  Pauline  Creed  that  advises  the  postulant  to 
be  "all  things  to  all  men." 


CHAPTER  V 

i 

THE  word  "chaperon"  was  unknown  in  our  neigh- 
borhood except  to  readers  of  French  and  English 
tales  of  high  Me.  Yet  the  conventionalities  fencing 
in  the  debutante  (who  would  not  have  recognized 
herself  under  the  title)  were  as  rigidly  observed  as 
in  fashionable  circles  in  our  day.  If  not  convoyed 
by  masculine  relative,  or  an  elder  sister,  cousin, 
or  aunt,  our  Virginia  party-goer  took  her  maid  in 
the  carriage  with  her,  ostensibly  to  put  the  finishing 
touches  to  her  toilet  in  the  dressing-room, — in  real- 
ity, whether  it  were  confessed  to  herself  or  not,  to 
conserve  the  proprieties. 

Beth  Moore  no  longer  ranked  herself  among  the 
young  girls  of  her  set.  That  she  was  thirty-six  years 
old  was  no  secret  to  anybody.  She  stood  serenely 
in  her  lot  as  a  confirmed  spinster,  yet  was  never 
relegated  to  the  "old-maid  list."  She  was  Helen's 
companion  to  social  gatherings  large  or  small,  and 
of  whatever  character  and  complexion.  The  elastic 
appellation  "function"  was  not  to  be  invented  for 
fifty  years  to  come. 

The  Carters  were  near  neighbors,  living  but  four 
miles  away.  The  party  was  in  honor  of  the  nineteen- 
year-old  eldest  daughter  of  the  house,  a  general 
favorite  who,  it  was  whispered,  would  be  a  bride 
before  another  birthday  rolled  by.  Engagements 

58 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HELL         59 

'announced,"  only  taken  for  granted 
and  "whispered,"  until  but  a  farce  of  secrecy  was 
left. 

The  porch  floor  was  washed  white  by  the  full 
moon,  when  the  gay  little  procession  swept  out  of 
the  doorway.  A  private  exhibition  of  toilets  had 
been  held  in  the  hall,  the  blaze  of  a  half-a-dozen 
spermaceti  candles  held  high  by  sable  attendants 
blending  with  the  paler  lustre  flooding  the  threshold. 
Madam  Carrington,  her  son,  and  Mr.  Rice  were 
an  informal  committee  of  inspection.  Helen  was 
at  her  most  bewitching  best  and  brightest  in  filmy 
white,  embroidered  with  pink  roses.  Real  roses, 
cunningly  selected  to  match  them  in  tint,  were  in 
the  corsage,  and  one  looped  back  a  curl  above  the 
left  temple.  Pale  pink  shoes  and  long  gloves  were 
of  the  same  shade. 

"I  never  imagined  you  could  look  so  charmingly 
pretty!"  her  father  had  confessed  when  admitted 
to  a  private  view  of  the  dazzling  vision. 

The  chorus  of  applause  below-stairs  was  unquali- 
fied. A  score  of  dark-skinned  spectators  formed 
the  privileged  front  row.  At  the  far  end  of  the  stage 
and  in  what  might  be  called  "the  pit"  beyond,  on 
either  side  of  the  front  steps,  and  half-way  to  the 
gate  and  the  waiting  carriage,  urchins  pranced  and 
gurgled  low  exclamations  of  rapture.  Beth  looked 
surprisingly  youthful,  yet  with  a  gentle  stateliness 
that  accorded  perfectly  with  her  gown  of  silver- 
gray  tissue  which  Mr.  Rice  informed  her  gallantly 
(l  matched  the  moonlight." 


60         THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

Madam  Carrington  stood  alone  at  the  head  of 
the  steps  when  her  son  and  Mr.  Rice  returned  after 
escorting  the  revellers  to  the  carriage. 

"I  wish  you  could  have  watched  the  procession 
with  me !"  she  laughed.  "It  was  like  a  royal  prog- 
ress with  the  distinguished  personages  in  their  robes 
of  office  in  the  van,  and  an  irregular  dark  line  trail- 
ing after  them.  It  was  the  funniest  exhibition  you 
can  imagine.  All  that  was  lacking  was  the  blare 
of  trumpets  and  the  shouts  of  the  populace!" 

"Which  could  have  been  quickly  supplied  if  you 
had  intimated  a  wish  to  complete  the  pageant," 
replied  Mr.  Rice.  "A  word  from  you  would  have 
invoked  all  the  horns  and  howls  needed  to  fill  out 
the  programme.  For  my  part,  I  am  most  grateful 
for  being  allowed  to  see  the  principal  actors  in  gala 
attire.  I  predict  that  they  will  be  the  belles  of  the 
ball  to-night.  No,  thank  you  ! "  as  the  hostess  waved 
her  hand  invitingly  toward  a  chair.  "I  have  a  mass 
of  correspondence  that  must  be  attended  to  to- 
night. You  may  care  to  know  that  my  humble 
papers  upon  'Poultry  Farming'  have  excited  in- 
terest among  those  whom  I  had  in  mind  while  writ- 
ing. A  dozen  or  more  readers  of  The  Register  have 
written  to  me  for  detailed  information." 

"  I  predicted  as  much ! "  answered  Madam  heartily. 
And  Paul :  "Good  for  you,  old  fellow !  May  the  good 
work  go  on!" 

"I  thank  you  both — from  my  heart.  You  com- 
prehend that  I  would  not  have  spoken  of  it  to  any- 
body else.  Good  night !" 

" There  goes  one  of  God's  noblemen!"  uttered 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         61 

Paul,  when  his  friend  was  beyond  hearing.  "He 
will  never  get  the  title  on  earth.  Up  yonder!"  He 
pointed  heavenward  significantly. 

"It  is  waiting  for  him  there !"  assented  his  mother, 
and  for  a  little  while  neither  spoke  again. 

Paul  lighted  a  cigar.  His  mother  sank  back  con- 
tentedly in  the  depths  of  her  armchair,  and  both 
feasted  eyes  and  thought  upon  the  picture  glorified 
by  the  moon.  The  twilight  that  had  tempered  the 
heat  of  the  day  had  silvered  shrubbery  and  turf 
with  dew.  The  air  was  crystal  clear;  the  outline 
of  the  distant  forest  was  drawn  blackly  distinct 
against  the  pale  horizon.  The  song  of  the  whippoor- 
will  in  the  meadows  was  softened  into  music,  and 
presently  a  mocking-bird  in  the  nearest  grove  es- 
sayed an  imitation  of  the  night-bird,  passing,  as 
if  in  disgust,  into  an  original  rhapsody  in  perfect 
harmony  with  the  hour  and  scene. 

The  listeners  laughed  softly  at  the  transition. 

"Wise  bird!"  commented  Paul.  "I  hope  Rice 
hears  him !  It  is  just  the  touch  of  natural  poetry 
that  will  go  to  his  heart.  The  office-windows  are 
all  open.  He  can't  help  hearing  the  serenade.  He 
could  write  a  book  upon  bird-lore,  if  he  would. 
Hark!" 

The  bird  was  trilling  a  different  opus — ineffably 
tuneful — it  might  be  a  reminiscence  of  wildwood — 
love  and  rapture — and  loss — and  pain ! 

When  at  last  Madam  Carrington  spoke  it  was 
evident  that  her  thoughts  had  not  wandered  far 
afield : 

"I  shall  always  regret  that  he  never  married!" 


62         THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

Her  son  started  and  turned  his  head  in  momentary 
bewilderment. 

"He?  Do  you  mean  Rice?  I  am  afraid  it  is 
too  late  to  correct  the  error — if  error  it  was !" 

Madam  answered  in  her  most  decided  tone: 

"As  it  was — undoubtedly  !  Always  supposing  he 
had  chosen  the  right  woman.  Which  he  did  not !" 

Paul  faced  her  abruptly. 

"What  do  you  mean?    You  suspected  then' " 

She  filled  up  the  pause: 


cc  • 


''  I  suspected  nothing !  Naomi  told  me  the  truth 
the  night  before  she  died.  What  do  you  know  about 
it?" 

Response  did  not  follow  at  once.  When  it  came 
it  was  tentative: 

"I  have  never  spoken  of  it  because  I  felt  I  had 
no  right  to  betray  even  a  half-confidence.  I  can 
say  no  more  now." 

"/  was  under  no  promise  of  secrecy.  I  kept  my 
own  counsel  because  I  could  not  see  that  anything 
but  trouble  could  come  from  telling  the  story. 
Naomi  was  heart-broken  over  it.  And  I  guessed — 
I  believe  correctly — that  more  went  to  the  deplor- 
able state  of  mind  and  body  that  followed  his  sister's 
death  than  that  event  itself.  We  may  as  well  stop 
beating  about  the  bush,  my  son,  and  speak  out  the 
ugly  truth  both  of  us  have  known  all  the  years 
that  have  passed  over  our  heads  since  that  wretched 
creature  toyed  with  a  man's  heart  as  a  cat  might 
play  with  a  mouse,  and  then  ran  away  with  another 
woman's  husband ! 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         63 

"There!  It  is  said!  and  you  are  no  wiser  than 
if  I  had  continued  to  hold  my  tongue.  In  all  the 
years  that  Mahlon  Rice  has  lived  in  my  family  as 
one  of  us,  I  have  never  hinted  by  word  or  look  that 
his  dying  sister  had  poured  the  story  into  my  ears 
when  she  was  too  weak  to  hold  it  back  any  longer. 
I  gave  her  what  comfort  I  could  by  volunteering 
to  care  for  the  wreck  that — wretch  had  made  of  him 
— as  long  as  he  or  I  lived." 

Paul  was  on  his  feet  and  at  her  side.  Dropping 
upon  one  knee  he  gathered  her  in  his  arms. 

"Mother !  I  thought  I  knew  before  what  a  mag- 
nificent woman  you  are !  I  seem  never  to  have 
appreciated  the  fulness  of  your  glorious  woman- 
hood until  this  moment.  When  I  think  what  you 
have  done  for  him  and  to  keep  his  name  clean,  his 
reputation  unstained  in  the  sight  of  the  world — 
God  forgive  me  for  never  fathoming  the  depths  of 
a  nature  that  makes  all  other  women  weak  by  com- 
parison." 

Her  head  lay  upon  his  heart -while  he  spoke.  Her 
hand  stole  up  to  his  cheek  as  he  said  the  last  words, 
and  felt  that  it  was  wet. 

"My  boy!  my  blessing!  Your  love  and  praise 
would  reward  me  if  I  were  what  you  think.  And 
to  see  what  a  man  I  have  helped  to  save  to  us  all 
has  already  been  all  the  recompense  I  could  wish. 
I  am  glad  we  have  broken  the  seal  of  silence  with 
regard  to  this  matter.  Yet  I  am  glad  we  have  held 
on  our  respective  ways  without  consultation  until 
the  task  to  which  we  believed  that  we  were  called 


64         THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

by  God  was  practically  finished.  My  blood  boiled 
while  Naomi  told  of  the  various  traps  and  nets  set 
for  her  brother.  Do  you  know  that — thing — ac- 
tually pretended  to  be  under  deep  conviction  for 
sin  and  even  to  have  been  converted  by  his  teach- 
ing? She  wrote  dozens  of  letters  to  him  while  this 
was  going  on.  Clever  letters,  too.  She  was  the 
brightest  girl  in  her  classes  and  an  omnivorous 
reader. 

"Her  mother  was  pleased  beyond  measure  when 
Molly  begged  to  continue  her  studies  in  Latin. 
Mr.  Rice  had  offered  to  give  her  lessons  when  she 
confided  to  him  her  wish  to  carry  on  her  education 
at  home.  Mrs.  Watkins  consented  upon  condition 
that  the  arrangement  should  be  kept  quiet.  She 
was  afraid  there  would  be  talk  in  the  congregation 
if  it  got  out.  That  chimed  in  exactly  with  Molly's 
fondness  for  mystery  and  intrigue  and  all  that  sort 
of  thing.  So  he  directed  her  reading  by  letter,  and 
lent  her  books — and  she  wrote  reports  as  a  school- 
girl might,  and  contrived  clandestine  meetings  at 
The  Glebe  under  pretense  of  taking  fruit  and  cakes 
and  such  things  from  her  mother  to  Naomi.  Then, 
I  suppose  she  got  tired  of  the  play,  and  managed 
to  get  an  invitation  to  spend  the  winter  in  Rich- 
mond with  her  father's  sister,  and — you  know  the 
rest !  It  turned  out  that  she  had  been  correspond- 
ing with  the  man  who  ran  away  with  her,  ever  since 
they  had  met  at  the  White  Sulphur  the  summer 
before,  hiding  her  tracks  by  mailing  the  letters  in 
different  post-offices  and  directing  them  to  several 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         6$ 

fictitious  names  agreed  upon  between  them.  The 
man  came  back  a  few  months  later,  to  wind  up  his 
affairs,  it  was  said,  in  order  to  go  into  business  in 
Savannah.  His  wife  got  a  separation,  but  declared 
she  would  not  please  him  and  let  him  marry  again 
by  applying  for  a  divorce. 

"The  Watkinses  had  no  other  children  living, 
and  after  the  father  and  mother  died  and  the  plan- 
tation was  sold,  the  ugly  story  seemed  to  pass  out 
of  people's  minds.  I  have  not  heard  it  mentioned 
in  years.  But  ours  is.  not  a  gossiping  county,  take 
it  as  a  whole,  and  this  scandal  was  somewhat  of  a 
reflection  upon  it.  We  were  thankful  it  died  so 
soon.  It  is  not  once  in  a  century  that  a  respectable 
family  is  disgraced  by  such  an  affair." 

She  said  it  without  misgivings.  The  social  cyclone 
that  had  torn  through  the  respectable  community 
less  than  a  score  of  years  before  had  wrecked  no 
reputations.  Excess  of  folly  was  the  worst  accusa- 
tion that  could  be  brought  against  High  Hill,  when 
it  might  be  said  to  be  the  head  centre  of  the  tem- 
porary revolution.  Ce"cile's  most  envious  detractors 
had  never  dared  impugn  her  fidelity  to  her  husband, 
and  his  blind  idolatry  of  her  was  a  proverb  to  this 
day.  His  stainless  life  and  decorous  widowerhood 
would  have  been  complete  refutation  of  calumny 
had  any  one  dared  to  circulate  it. 

As  the  silence  succeeding  her  reminiscences  be- 
came awkward,  a  far-fetched  foreboding  crept  upon 
the  narrator's  complacency.  It  was  no  secret  that 
the  "creature"  whose  character  she  had  figura- 


66         THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

tively  cast  to  the  moles  and  the  bats  was  a  mad 
worshipper  of  Paul  Carrington's  wife.  Had  her 
social  status  been  lower  she  would  have  been  called 
a  parasite  of  the  imported  leader  of  fashion  and 
fancy.  As  it  was,  Molly  Watkins  was  envied  by 
girls  with  less  pretension  to  the  nameless  charm 
that  makes  fools  of  men  and  drives  minor  beauties 
to  jealous  frenzy. 

It  was  plain  that  Paul  heard  the  whole  tale  for 
the  first  time.  He  had  surmised  that  his  invalid 
companion  in  the  foreign  tour  which  brought  back 
lost  health  and  spirits  had  loved  the  frail,  fair  woman 
whose  fall  horrified  the  community.  He  had  alluded 
to  the  surmise  as  having  been  born  of  a  "half-con- 
fidence." It  was  right  and  expedient  that  he  should 
be  put  into  possession  of  the  unvarnished  facts. 

And  a  more  propitious  hour  and  place  for  unre- 
strained confidence  could  hardly  be  imagined. 

While  they  talked,  the  mocking-bird,  waxing 
confident  in  his  powers  of  improvisation,  took  new 
and  bold  flights  into  the  heaven  of  song-venture, 
as  brilliant  as  audacious.  They  could  see  him  rising, 
floating,  and  sinking  as  upon  a  wave  of  melody, 
above  the  tree-top,  carried  out  of  himself  by  a 
fantasia  of  delight. 

Madam  laughed  low  again. 

"He  is  excelling  himself!  All  mocking-birds  do 
not  sing  at  night.  I  think  that  most  of  them  go 
to  bed,  like  sober  housekeepers,  and  sleep  until  day- 
light. Naomi  had  one  whose  pedigree  must  have 
been  crossed  by  a  nightingale.  He  would  sing  all 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         67 

night  if  she  did  not  lock  him  up  in  a  dark  closet. 
Although  he  had  lived  in  a  cage  for  months,  she 
fancied  that  he  longed  for  freedom.  She  let  him  go 
the  summer  before  she  died.  After  that  he  used 
to  sing  every  night  in  the  tree  under  her  window, 
and  she  fed  him  regularly — tender-hearted  little 
soul!" 

Paul  made  a  palpable  effort  to  fall  into  her  mood : 

"This  fellow  may  be  a  lineal  descendant.  Who 
knows?  We  must  tell  Helen  the  story,  I  foresee 
that  she  will  adopt  our  Philomel  and  contrive  to 
make  his  acquaintance." 

"The  child  is  growing  into  a  fine  woman,"  re- 
turned the  grandmother.  "Philadelphia  has  done 
much  for  her." 

A  nameless  quality  in  her  intonation  prepared 
the  listener  for  what  came  next: 

"We  must  not  forget,  son,  that  she  is  not  a  child 
any  longer.  Nor  that  with  her  temperament  and 
ready  wit — and  other  natural  gifts,  she  must  be 
guarded  tactfully  until  she  finds  herself,  so  to  speak. 
It  is  very  fortunate  that  she  and  Elizabeth  remain 
upon  such  affectionate  terms.  I  believe  that  Helen 
speaks  more  freely  to  her  than  to  any  of  her  girl 
friends.  And  she  could  not  have  a  safer  confidante. 
So  much  depends  upon  a  girl's  associates  at  the  time 
when  her  character  is  in  the  making." 

"God  knows  that  is  true!"  The  sudden  vehe- 
mence of  the  speech  startled  his  mother.  "And 
we" — the  slight  emphasis  upon  the  word  did  not 
escape  the  fine  ear  of  his  companion — "cannot  afford 


68         THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

to  take  risks.  As  you  say,  she  could  not  have  a 
safer  guide,  companion,  and  friend  than  the  angel 
in  human  form  who  is  with  her  to-night." 

The  solemn  fervor  of  his  tone  emboldened  his 
mother  to  make  a  daring  move: 

"We  are  talking  as  heart-to-heart  to-night,  my 
boy.  Will  you  let  me  go  further  than  I  have  ever 
gone  before  and  put  a  direct  question  to  you?  I 
have  never  owned  to  you — or  to  any  one  except 
the  Searcher  of  hearts" — head  and  voice  sinking 
reverently  in  uttering  it — "that  the  dearest  wish 
of  my  heart  for  years  has  been  to  see  her  whom  you 
call  an  angel — your  wife ! " 

It  was  a  tremendous  moment,  and  even  her  spirit 
quailed  as  she  brought  out  the  words.  Back  of 
them  lay  years  of  unspoken  yearning,  of  crushed 
hopes,  of  strong  crying  and  tears  when  the  mother- 
heart  was  unveiled  to  the  Friend  to  whom  unavail- 
ing prayer  had  gone  up  for — "how  long,  oh,  Lord, 
how  long  ?  " 

She  had  nearly  said  it  aloud  while  she  awaited 
tremblingly  the  result  of  her  desperate  stroke. 

"As  'heady'  as  a  steam-engine  when  once  her 
mind  is  made  up ! "  a  blunt  planter  had  said  of  her 
to  Mr.  Rice.  "There's  but  one  man  upon  the  green 
earth  who  can  make  her  budge  an  inch,  and  that's 
her  son.  She  asks  his  advice  once  in  a  blue  moon — 
yes,  sir!  and  takes  it !  I  have  known  that  to  happen 
a  couple  of  times.  I  wouldn't  have  believed  it  if 
I  hadn't  seen  it  with  my  own  eyes  and  heard  it  with 
my  ears.  Ed  Carrington  hadn't  a  sneaking  notion 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         69 

that  his  soul  was  his  own  after  he'd  been  married 
to  her  ten  years.  After  that,  he  trotted  as  meekly 
in  harness  as  a  twenty-year-old  mare.  Paul's  made 
out  of  different  stuff.  As  good  a  son  as  ever  trod 
shoe-leather  if  he  was  a  leettle  'gayly'  for  a  while. 
But  there  never  was  a  sign  of  the  'etcetera'  about 
him.  Folks  did  think  the  Madam  would  marry 
him  to  Beth  Moore,  and  it  would  have  been  a  tip- 
top match,  take  it  all  around.  They  say  Madam 
sets  more  store  by  her  adopted  daughter  than  by 
all  her  blood-kin  put  together — and  she  is  a  blame 
fine  girl ! — with  a  pretty  property  of  her  own.  But 
young  folks  will  fly  the  track  at  one  time  or  another, 
and  a  match  of  quite  another  kind  was  struck  by 
the  boy." 

Had  Mr.  Rice  been  privy  to  the  present  inter- 
view he  must  have  recalled  the  summary  of  the 
relative  positions  occupied  by  father  and  son  toward 
the  queen  of  the  home. 

"This  is  very  plain  talk,  mother !" 

To  a  woman  of  different  caliber  the  words  and 
tone  would  have  been  the  fall  of  a  portcullis  of  final- 
ity. Her  spirit  rallied  to  the  occasion: 

"  I  told  you  just  now  that  I  meant  to  speak  frankly. 
I  need  not  remind  you  of  how  many  years  I  have 
respected  your  reserve  upon  everything  that  con- 
cerned this  subject.  I  am  growing  old.  The  future 
of  the  home  of  your  child — of  yourself — should  be 
provided  for.  Should  I  die  to-morrow  the  family 
would  be  broken  up,  and  your  child  virtually  home- 
less. These  are  hard  facts.  They  must  be  faced." 


70         THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

He  leaned  toward  her,  elbows  upon  knees;  his 
face,  clearly  seen  in  the  moonlight,  wore  a  smile 
that  puzzled  her.  His  voice  had  the  undertone  of 
affectionate  raillery  which  nobody  else  dared  use 
to  her. 

"To  make  your  meaning  plainer  still,  you  would 
have  me  ask  the  woman  I  have  rightly  called  'an 
angel  in  human  form '  to  marry  me  in  order  to  keep 
the  High  Hill  family  from  breaking  up  in  the  event 
of  your  untimely  decease?"  Straightening  up,  his 
tone  changed  to  fierce  demand:  "Mother!  do  you 
appreciate  what  that  little  sentence  implies?  What 
right  have  I  to  offer  the  rest  of  a  blasted  life  and 
the  wreck  of  a  heart  to  any  good  woman — to  say 
nothing  of  a  peerless  pearl  of  womanhood,  like  Eliza- 
beth Moore  ?  Don't  interrupt  me  yet !  Do  you 
suppose  I  have  lived  under  the  same  roof  with  her 
all  these  years  without  seeing  and  knowing  her  as 
she  is?  She  has  been  more  than  a  daughter  to  you; 
more  than  a  mother  to  the  almost-orphaned  child — 
to  me — salvation  from  unbelief  in  God  and  in  man ! 
Great  Heaven !  Don't  I  say  all  this  over  to  myself 
every  day  and  hour  that  I  live?" 

The  mother  was  not  dismayed.  She  had  met 
him  and  come  off  victorious  in  fiercer  conflicts  than 
this.  He  had  admitted  enough  to  make  her  sanguine 
of  the  sequel  of  the  crucial  interview. 

"What  have  you  to  give  her?"  The  query  rang 
out  confidently.  "A  man  who  has  been  tried  in 
the  fire  and  is  not  found  wanting !  A  heart  the  truer 
and  better  worth  the  having  than  if  you  had  never 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         71 

suffered  and  fought — and  overcome  temptations 
to  misanthropy  and  infidelity.  Let  us  be  reason- 
able, dear  boy!  Put  another  man  in  your  place 
and — knowing  our  treasure  to  be  what  she  is — what 
would  you  advise  him  to  do?" 

The  fine  sense  of  humor  that  had  blunted  many  a 
jagged  point  for  Paul  Carrington  loosened  the  ten- 
sion of  the  scene.  He  laughed,  in  tossing  a  hand 
into  the  air  as  one  might  fling  away  a  ball. 

"If  you  please,  I  decline  to  put  any  other  man 
in  my  place  in  the  circumstances  !"  And,  seriously: 
"Until  very  lately,  I  have  not  dared  think  of  what 
you  have  spoken  of  as  a  possibility.  I  must  get 
used  to  the  thought  by  degrees,  as  it  were — as  a 
prisoner  who  has  lived  in  a  dungeon  for  years  wears 
ground  glasses  for  a  while.  And  there  must  always 
be  the  consciousness  of  utter  unworthiness.  And 
that  she,  knowing  all — must  feel  and  comprehend !" 

He  got  upon  hi's  feet  and  offered  to  raise  her. 

"  I  can't  talk  more  of  it  now,  dear  mother !  Thank 
you  for  loving  me  well  enough  to  say  all  that  you 
have  said  to-night !  You  must  go  to  bed.  I  will 
sit  up  for  the  party-goers.  I  shall  not  be  sleepy 
for  hours." 

As  she  gathered  up  her  various  belongings,  the 
astute  parent  let  fly  a  Parthian  dart: 

"It  is  more  than  likely  that  Mr.  Wirt  Cocke  will 
escort  them  home.  He  has  found  out  lately  that 
High  Hill  is  directly  on  his  way  to  Beaumont,  and 
improves  the  knowledge  when  Elizabeth  may  be 
met  on  the  road." 


72         THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

Paul  stooped  to  chase  a  rolling  spool  escaped 
from  her  work-basket  and  spoke  incredulously — 
one  might  imagine,  resentfully: 

"You  don't  mean  it  ?  That  old  graybeard !  How 
long  has  his  wife  been  dead?" 

"Two  years  And  a  man  of  fifty  has  no  time  to 
lose !  Good  night,  my  dear !  Send  the  girls  directly 
to  bed  when  they  come,  and  say  that  I  hope  they 
have  had  a  pleasant  time." 

They  parted  at  the  open  door  of  the  chamber, 
and  Paul  returned  to  keep  his  solitary  vigil. 

The  tall  hall-clock  struck  one  as  he  espied  dark 
objects  clustering  about  the  plantation-gate  a  quar- 
ter-mile away.  These  proved,  as  they  took  shape 
in  the  white  road,  to  be  the  High  Hill  equipage  at- 
tended by  two  mounted  figures,  one  on  each  side 
of  the  vehicle. 

As  Paul  strolled  down  to  the  yard-gate  to  meet 
them,  he  recognized  the  well-set-up  figures  of  Wirt 
Cocke  and  his  jaunty  son. 

In  their  progress  to  the  house  the  widower  ten- 
dered his  arm  to  Beth,  while  the  junior  took  charge 
of  Helen. 

The  quartette  chattered  cheerfully,  lowering  the 
hilarious  tone,  at  Beth's  initiative,  in  nearing  the 
goal  for  fear  of  awakening  Madam  Carrington. 

Father  and  son  rode  away  down  the  avenue, 
watched  by  those  left  on  the  porch  until  the  moon- 
light swallowed  them  up. 

"Like  a  silver  river!"  said  Helen's  guarded  sub- 
tone  in  kissing  her  father  "good  night."  And  nod- 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         73 

ding  toward  the  outer  gate:  "Do  you  suppose  they 
always  hunt  in  couples?  It's  mighty  funny  when 
it's  father  and  son !" 

Her  father  did  not  betoken  enjoyment  of  the 
witticism.  Instead,  he  waved  a  warning  finger 
toward  her  grandmother's  room.  Perhaps  his  sense 
of  humor  was  not  in  working  order  in  the  small 
hours  of  the  day. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  fourth  Sunday  of  May  that  year  was  one  Helen 
Carrington  was  never  to  forget. 

The  whole  family  had  attended  church  in  the 
forenoon.  The  congregation  was  large.  Church- 
going  came  as  naturally  to  the  respectable  free- 
holder of  the  day  as  eating  breakfast  on  Sunday 
morning — a  big  dinner  with,  perhaps,  half-a-dozen 
guests,  expected  or  impromptu,  a  postprandial 
smoke  on  the  porch,  and  genial  neighborly  talk. 
The  second  service  took  the  form  of  "plantation 
preaching,"  often  in  a  part  of  the  county  so  remote 
from  the  regular  sanctuary  that  the  denizens  were 
alluded  to  compassionately  as  "destitute  of  church 
privileges."  Or  the  "free  church,"  owned  by  no 
particular  denomination,  was  appropriated  by  the 
few  Presbyterians  resident  in  the  vicinity  for  an 
"evening  service,"  "evening"  signifying  so  much 
of  the  sunlit  day  as  remained  after  the  two  o'clock 
dinner.  As  a  rule,  a  second  church  service  on  the 
day  of  rest  and  gladness  was  impracticable  to  wor- 
shippers who  drove  from  three  to  ten  miles  over 
country  highways  to  reach  the  church  in  season  for 
the  eleven  o'clock  service.  In  August  of  each  year 
there  were  "protracted  meetings"  in  the  afore- 
mentioned Free  Church,  conducted  by  the  Metho- 
dists and  Baptists.  One  eloquent  circuit-rider  was 

74 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         75 

wont  to  name  August  "the  harvest  month  of  souls." 
Meetings  were  kept  up  for  seven  days  of  the  week, 
and  if  the  harvest  justified  the  extension  of  time, 
sometimes  for  a  full  fortnight. 

Mount  Hor  had  the  privilege,  about  once  in  three 
years,  of  "entertaining"  East  Hanover  Presbytery 
in  her  appointed  turn  of  succession.  Those  were 
high  days  no  less  than  holy  days.  A  protracted 
meeting  banded  Sabbath  to  Sabbath,  and  the  county 
turned  out  en  masse  to  enjoy  sermons  delivered  by 
the  ablest  men  in  the  Virginia  pulpit. 

Mr.  Winston  had  preached  on  this  third  Sunday 
in  May — a  "live  sermon"  of  an  hour  that  let  none 
of  his  auditors  sleep.  The  customary  gathering  of 
friends  and  acquaintances  followed  the  benediction. 
Hand-shakings  and  cordial  salutations  were  ex- 
changed before  the  congregation  moved  to  leave 
the  building.  The  murmur  and  buzz  were  those  of 
a  social  assembly  as  the  slowly  drifting  throng  found 
its  way  at  length  to  the  doors  where  carriages  of 
all  sorts  were  waiting  to  receive  feminine  worshippers, 
and  blooded  hunters  their  cavaliers.  Only  aged  snd 
invalid  men  occupied  seats  in  the  family  chariot. 

"It  takes  me  some  time  to  get  used  to  it  all," 
Helen  remarked  to  her  father  in  a  late-afternoon 
talk.  "You  see  it  is  so  different  in  Philadelphia, 
and  I  have  been  there  more  months  in  the  year  than 
here  for  two  years  now.  But  I  like  the  dear  Old 
Virginia  ways  best.  It  is  good  to  think  that  I  am 
really  and  truly  going  to  live  here  altogether  and 
always!" 


76         THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

They  were  sitting  upon  a  rustic  bench  under  a 
rose-covered  arbor  in  the  garden,  "  resting,"  as  she 
put  it,  after  a  ramble  through  orchard  and  grounds. 
The  weather  was  perfect  even  for  May;  everything 
that  could  bloom  had  burst  buds  into  flowering. 
The  ineffable  peace  of  a  country  Sabbath  was  in 
the  brooding  air;  the  blue  sky  bowed  benignantly 
over  a  smiling  earth. 

The  image  was  born  in  Helen's  mind,  but  she 
clothed  it  in  other  words. 

"Somebody  writes  of  the  'eternal  fitness  of 
things,'"  she  resumed  thoughtfully  as  the  subtle  in- 
fluences of  scene  and  hour  gained  upon  her  imagina- 
tion. "I  can  understand  just  what  he  meant  on  a 
day  like  this  and  sitting  just  here — and  with  you!" 

The  sudden,  rapturous  hug  that  stood  for  a  double 
exclamation-point  in  her  affectionate  mood  finished 
the  tribute  to  nature  and  to  her  companion.  He  put 
his  arm  about  her  and  held  her  close;  a  silent  kiss 
left  no  need  of  words. 

He  had  been  very  gentle  and  loving  with  her  since 
her  home-coming.  She  comprehended,  as  she  fondly 
believed  he  intended  she  should,  that  they  were 
to  be,  in  future,  chums.  She  was  no  longer  a  play- 
thing. In  leaving  school  for  good  and  all,  she  had 
stepped  into  a  place  at  his  side.  Henceforward, 
they  were  upon  the  level  plane  of  man  and  woman. 
It  was  a  stage  in  the  wide  beautiful  new  life  she  was 
to  lead  hereafter — a  part — she  added  mentally  and 
complacently — of  what  was  no  longer  metaphysical 
but  present  truth — "The  Eternal  fitness  of  Things." 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         77 

She  took  in  great  drafts  of  courage  in  the  few  min- 
utes of  pregnant  silence. 

"Father!"  she  broke  it  by  saying,  slipping  her 
hand  into  that  which  closed  encouragingly  upon 
it.  "There  is  something  that  has  been  in  my  mind 
constantly  lately.  Ever  since  we  were  in  Rich- 
mond. Several  things  I  heard  there  set  me  to  won- 
dering why  I  have  never  been  told  more  of  matters 
that  certainly  concern  me  more  than  anybody  else 
alive.  When  I  couldn't  keep  silent  any  longer,  I 
broke  out  one  day  upon  Auntie  Beth.  I  am  afraid 
I  was  very  abrupt  and  unreasonable,  but  she  was 
heavenly  sweet,  as  she  always  is,  and  I  got  from 
her  a  sort  of  skeleton  story  of  my  early  life.  It  was 
all  true,  I  know,  as  far  as  it  went,  but  oh,  father, 
darling !  I  want  to  know  so  much  more  about  my 
own  beautiful,  brilliant  mother !  Don't  be  angry 
with  me !"  feeling  the  involuntary  shiver  that  went 
through  the  man  against  whom  she  leaned.  "I 
know  it  must  be  painful  for  you  to  speak  freely  when 
you  have  kept  silent  so  long — and  that  there  are 
things  too  sacred  to  be  discussed  with  one's  dearest 
friend.  But  father !  she  was  my  very  own  mother, 
and  I  am  the  only  child  she  left  to  you.  Can't  you 
talk  to  me  of  her,  if  to  nobody  else?" 

He  looked  over  her  head,  not  into  her  eyes,  in 
answering: 

"What  do  you  wish  to  know  that  has  not  been 
told  to  you?  I  must  know  first  what  you  have 
heard." 

The   dry   monotone   was   not   encouraging,   but 


78         THE   CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

Helen  was  not  to  be  quelled  when  the  Carrington 
blood  was  up.  She  hurried  on: 

"Only  that  my  mother's  name  was  Cecile  Larue; 
that  she  was  a  Southern  belle  whom  you  met  in 
New  Orleans;  that  you  married  her  after  a  short 
courtship,  and  brought  her  to  High  Hill  before  your 
letter  telling  my  grandmother  of  your  coming  reached 
her.  That  my  mother  was  very  beautiful  and  that 
everybody  in  the  county  was  in  love  with  her  at 
once.  Then  I  was  born  and  she  fell  into  bad  health 
and  you  took  her  South  to  her  friends  for  the  winter. 
You  came  home,  leaving  her  there,  and  better,  as 
you  supposed.  She  grew  worse  and  you  were  sent 
for.  Auntie  did  not  even  say  that  you  got  to  New 
Orleans  before  she  died.  I  took  it  for  granted  that 
you  did.  Oh,  father !  I  am  sure  I  hope  you  did  !" 
burying  her  face  in  his  bosom.  "Then  you  brought 
her  home.  That  is  all  of  auntie's  story,"  she  raised 
her  head  to  say,  bravely  swallowing  her  sobs  and 
trying  with  all  her  might  to  speak  distinctly.  "But 
I  ought  to  tell  you  that  when  I  was  in  Richmond 
I  met  a  Mrs.  Poitiaux  who  told  me  that  my  mother 
was  a  Roman  Catholic,  and  how  good  you  were 
to  take  her  to  town  three  or  four  times  a  year  that 
she  might  go  to  confession. 

"That  is  everything  I  know.  Really  and  truly! 
I  have  not  one  single  thing  that  belonged  to  my 
mother — not  so  much  as  a  bit  of  lace  or  a  piece  of 
jewelry  such  as  other  motherless  girls  keep  and 
love — and" — temper  rising  with  courage  as  she 
rushed  on — "she  lies  there  in  the  burying-ground 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         79 

without  a  stone  to  mark  her  grave.  And  when  I, 
a  little  lonely  child,  found  out  from  a  servant  which 
was  her  grave,  my  grandmother  would  not  let  me 
take  care  of  it,  or  so  much  as  go  to  see  it.  Do  you 
think  it  strange  that,  when  all  these  things  work 
like  poison  in  my  mind,  I  wonder  what  terrible  mys- 
tery lies  back  of  it  all?  My  mother  had  relatives. 
She  died  in  her  brother's  house.  Why  have  I  never 
known,  or  heard  from  any  of  them?  My  grand- 
father and  my  aunt,  who  died  when  she  was  but 
ten  years  old,  have  gravestones  to  let  people  know 
that  they  are  remembered  and  loved  still.  For  all 
the  sign  that  my  mother  ever  lived  and  bore  the 
same  name  with  me,  she  might  as  well  have  been 
buried  in  the  colored  servants'  graveyard  on  the 
hill  over  yonder!" 

She  nodded  her  head  backward  to  indicate  the 
location  of  the  hill  cemetery.  She  had  wrought 
herself  into  a  fury  of  fearless  indignation  that  would 
have  alarmed  the  beholder  but  for  the  fascination 
wrought  upon  him  by  the  sight  of  the  convulsed 
features  and  blazing  .  eyes.  Yielding  to  the  first 
impulse  of  horrified  memory,  he  pushed  her  from 
him,  and  dropped  his  face  upon  his  clenched  hands. 

"Oh,  my  God!" 

Gesture  and  groan  transfixed  Helen  to  the  spot. 
Never  in  all  her  life  had  she  heard  from  her  father's 
lips  aught  approximating  an  oath.  To  the  Presby- 
terian conscience  the  ejaculation  was  profanity. 
Nor  had  he  ever  laid  an  ungentle  hand  upon  her, 
or  in  her  sight  been  guilty  of  disrespect  to  a  woman. 


8o         THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HELL 

Had  she  sinned  beyond  forgiveness  in  her  blind  fury  ? 
What  could  she  do?  What  should  she  say?  What 
mad  words  had  turned  her  idolized  parent  against 
her? 

Before  she  could  stir  he  had  arisen,  and  without 
speaking,  took  her  by  the  arm.  Not  rudely,  but 
in  a  firm  grasp  from  which  she  could  not  es- 
cape if  she  were  to  attempt  flight.  The  rose-arbor 
was  in  the  central  alley  of  the  garden  and  not  far 
from  the  entrance-gate.  Paul  Carrington  struck  off 
from  this  into  a  side-path,  and  then  into  another, 
following  this  until  the  cultivated  squares  were 
merged  into  an  area  bordered  by  willows  and  aspens 
and  dotted  with  time-stained  tombstones.  These 
were  not  numerous  when  one  reflected  upon  the 
antiquity  of  the  plantation  and  the  wealth  of  the 
owners. 

But  in  the  earlier  years  of  State  life,  stonecutters 
were  few  even  in  the  cities,  and  of  sculptors  there 
were  none.  A  plain  upright  headstone  or,  more 
often,  a  huge  oblong  slab  laid  horizontally  upon 
brick  walls  four  or  five  feet  high,  commemorated 
the  name  and  virtues  of  the  deceased.  Even  in 
city  cemeteries  so  little  attention  was  bestowed 
upon  the  resting-places  of  the  beloved  and  honored 
dead  that  descendants  cast  vainly  about  in  their 
minds  for  adequate  explanation  of  what  certainly 
did  not  betoken  forgetfulness  of  deeds  done  in  the 
body,  or  disrespect  to  the  names  of  deceased  kindred. 
Moreover,  as  Beth  Moore  had  explained  to  Paul 
Carrington's  daughter,  the  devout  believer  in  the 
life-to-come  put  out  of  mind  so  far  as  possible,  and 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         81 

as  soon  as  he  could,  the  thought  of  the  "poor  body 
mouldering  in  the  clay,"  and  fed  fancy  and  faith 
upon  the  glorious  imagery  of  eternal  life  and  ever- 
lasting peace  promised  in  all  things  and  sure  to  the 
Father's  children. 

Madam  Carrington  was  one  of  a  mighty  class 
of  Christians  who  discountenance  visits  to  the  fam- 
ily graveyard.  Hervey's  "Meditations  Among  the 
Tombs"  was  in  her  library,  but  she  had  never 
cared  to  read  it.  The  "God's  acre"  to  which  her 
son  and  granddaughter  were  now  bending  their 
steps  was  no  more  unpleasing  than  that  of  dozens 
of  plantations  in  her  county  and  State,  but  it  con- 
trasted forlornly  with  the  trim  fields,  and  the  garden 
which  was  the  finest  of  the  region.  The  tall  herbage 
that  had  masked  mounds  and  memorial  tablets  all 
the  spring,  had  had  the  periodical  mowing  the  first 
week  in  May,  and  was  now  sprouting  greenly  every- 
where. It  was  a  level  surface  over  an  unmarked 
space  perhaps  twenty  feet  from  a  modest  headstone 
bearing  the  name  of  "Edmonia,  daughter  of  E.  T. 
and  Paulina  Carrington,  aged  eleven" 

A  giant  weeping  willow  with  a  bole  twice  as  thick 
as  a  man's  body  shaded  the  plot  at  which  Paul 
halted.  A  rude  seat  of  planks  was  set  between  the 
big  willow  and  its  neighbor,  and  upon  this  he  sat 
down  and  took  his  daughter,  trembling  and  mute, 
into  his  arms. 

Every  symptom  of  displeasure  had  gone  from  his 
face;  the  eyes  that  drew  hers  to  look  into  them 
were  warm  with  tenderness. 

"My  darling  must  not  think  that  I  am  displeased 


82         THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

with  her!"  he  said,  and  Beth  could  not  have  been 
gentler.  "But  there  are  things  in  the  past  of  the 
happiest  of  us  which  hurt  too  much  in  reviewing 
them  for  us  to  live  them  over  even  in  thought.  I 
am  glad  we  have  had  this  talk  to-day.  It  is  best 
to  get  rid  of  hot  spots  in  the  heart  when  we  can  do 
it  safely.  I  am  glad,  too,  that  you  have  had  a  true 
outline  of  your  mother's  life  in  Virginia.  She  was, 
as  you  have  been  told,  a  beautiful  and  brilliant 
woman  and  made  a  host  of  friends  here  before  her 
health  failed.  As  to  your  not  having  jewelry  or 
other  keepsake  belonging  to  her,  you  must  recollect 
that  she  died  a  long  distance  away  from  home. 
Nothing  of  hers  was  brought  back  to  Virginia.  She 
had  one  sister  and  two  brothers,  all  of  whom  are 
dead.  I  know  nothing  of  their  children  with  the 
exception  of  a  nephew  who  had  led  a  wandering 
life,  and  whom  I  should  not  like  to  have  you  know 
if  he  lived  in  this  country.  His  father  and  mother 
died  years  ago. 

"You  shall  have  your  wish  with  regard  to  the 
tombstone.  I  can  understand  how  you  feel  about 
it.  No,  dear !"  as  she  tried  to  speak  through  a  rush 
of  hot  tears.  "Do  not  try  to  thank  me!  It  shall 
be  your  memorial  to  the  mother  you  do  not  recollect, 
I  brought  you  here  to  say  this  to  you.  The  tablet 
shall  be  a  stone  of  remembrance  to  you  and  to  me, 
also.  A  silent  pledge  that  we,  henceforward,  trust 
one  another  so  well  that  we  will  let  no  dark  mys- 
teries creep  into  our  hearts.  We  will  believe  in  each 
other's  love  and  forget  what  we  cannot  quite  under- 
stand of  one  another's  actions.  What  do  you  say?" 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         83 

They  strolled  leisurely  back  to  the  house  as  the 
sunset  was  flushing  the  sky.  The  rest  of  the  family 
were  watching  it  from  the  side-porch. 

"We  need  not  ask  if  you  had  a  pleasant  walk," 
smiled  Mr.  Rice  into  Helen's  eyes.  "You  have 
caught  the  color  of  the  sunset." 

"The  very  happiest  walk  I  ever  had  in  all  my 
life!"  ejaculated  the  girl  glancing  brightly  at  her 
father. 

"In  saying  it,  she  more  than  repaid  me  for  what 
the  talk  cost  me."  Paul  confided  to  his  mother 
before  he  slept  that  night:  "I  owe  to  her  what  she 
asked  for,  and  the  debt  shall  be  paid.  I  go  to  Rich- 
mond to-morrow  to  give  the  order." 

In  the  depths  of  her  practical  soul  Madam  may 
have  thought  the  sudden  resolution  a  sentimental 
whim.  She  held  back  protest  in  word  or  look.  The 
blunt  planter  had  said  truly  that  she  never  corn- 
batted  her  son's  settled  resolve.  And  that  his  will, 
once  formulated,  "had  no  etcetera  about  it." 

In  a  month's  time  there  arrived  by  wagon  from 
Richmond  a  heavy  box  for  the  passage  of  which 
into  the  graveyard,  part  of  the  lower  fence  was  pulled 
down.  Workmen  from  the  city  accompanied  the 
freight,  and  spent  two  days  in  setting  in  place  upon 
a  granite  foundation  at  the  head  of  a  newly  turfed 
mound  an  upright  slab  bearing  the  inscription: 

CECILS 
WIFE  or  PAUL  CARRINGTON 

REQUIESCAT    IN    PACE 


CHAPTER  VII 

"MR.  RICE  !  I  hope  you  and  father  will  not  forget 
the  missionary  meeting  here  at  half-after-three 
o'clock  this  evening?"  said  Helen  Carrington  de- 
murely at  breakfast  on  the  morning  of  July  2. 
"The  thunder-storm  last  night  cleared  the  air  and 
made  it  delightfully  cool.  A  full  attendance  is  con- 
fidently expected !" 

"Helen!"  admonished  her  grandmother,  shaking 
her  head  at  the  sinner  whose  imitation  of  Mr.  Win- 
ston's best  pulpit  tone  was  inimitable. 

The  monitor  hardly  repressed  a  smile  and  the 
others  laughed.  Paul  carried  on  the  jest. 

"We  recollect  it  so  well  that  we  will  leave  written 
regrets  with  you  that  an  errand  to  the  court-house 
will  compel  our  absence  upon  the  auspicious  oc- 
casion. Our  horses  are  ordered  for  three  o'clock, 
sharp!" 

"You  have  much  to  regret!"  Helen  pursued 
gravely.  "Miss  Zephine  Anderson  has  canvassed 
the  county  for  'suitable  reading-matter  for  the 
poor  deluded  heathen/  She  had  a  wheelbarrow- 
load  of  our  best  authors  (expurgated)  when  I  last 
talked  with  her.  She  is  particularly  proud  of  a 
second  volume  of  Mrs.  Hemans  she  picked  up  last 
week.  The  first  volume  was  lost,  or  this  would  not 
have  been  given  to  her.  '  Wasn't  that  just  too  provi- 

84 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         85 

dential?'"  her  powers  of  mimicry  again  in  play. 
"But  all  of  'The  Forest  Sanctuary'  is  in  that  vol- 
ume and  several  juvenile  poems  which  the  poor  be- 
nighted savage  children  can  learn  by  heart.  'Cas- 
abianca,'  you  know?  They  must  have  shipwrecks 
in  the  Cannibal  Islands  sometimes,  so  they  will  un- 
derstand about  the  'boy  on  the  burning  deck'  and 
all  that,  you  know?  And  then  that  sweet,  sweet 
thing — 'Prayer  in  a  girls'  school' — that  I  can  never 
read  without  tears: 

'"To  make  you  idols  and  to  find  them  clay 
And  then  bewail  their  worship — therefore,  pray ! ' 

"  'Could  anything  be  more  appropriate  for 
idolaters?  It  seems  like  a  special  providence  that 
I  got  hold  of  the  volume  that  had  it  in.  But  I  al- 
ways say  there  are  "leadings"  that  are  past  finding 
out!'" 

The  flutter  of  a  fan,  picked  up  from  the  table, 
and  a  sentimental  sigh  and  devout  upcasting  of 
the  eyes  perfected  the  comedy. 

It  was  impossible  not  to  laugh,  and  equally  out 
of  the  question  to  scold  her.  Mr.  Rice  was  the  first 
to  find  his  voice: 

"Your  talent  is  wasted  in  private  life!"  he  an- 
nounced, wiping  his  glasses  before  he  could  go  on 
with  his  meal. 

Helen  glanced  over  her  shoulder  to  make  sure 
neither  the  butler  nor  his  assistant  was  within  ear- 
shot. 


86         THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

"You  cannot  claim  the  credit  of  the  discovery," 
she  retorted.  "Only  yesterday  I  overheard  Mirny 
tell  Chloe  that  'Miss  Helen  suttinly  ken  take  off 
colored  folks  talk  'tel  you  couldn't  tell  her  apart 
from  dem  ef  you  warn't  lookin'  at  her!' ; 

When  the  mirth  excited  by  the  last  bit  of  drollery 
subsided,  she  was  ready  with  another  "subject." 

"Father!  I  don't  believe  you  thought  that  old 
Mrs.  Harrison  is  to  be  'in  our  midst,'  when  you 
made  the  engagement  with  Mr.  Rice.  I  have  it 
upon  excellent  authority  that  she  has  added  ten 
new  anecdotes  to  her  stock  in  trade  since  the  last 
monthly  missionary  meeting.  You  don't  know 
what  you  will  miss. " 

"My  child!"  interposed  Madam  seriously.  "I 
do  not  want  to  find  fault  with  lively  talk,  and  I 
know  there  is  nothing  ill-natured  in  yours,  but  I 
must  object  to  your  speaking  of  my  friend  as  'old 
Mrs.  Harrison.'  It  is  not  respectful.  I  sent  the 
servants  out  of  the  room  when  the  talk  became 
personal.  I  have  never  allowed  them  to  remain 
within  hearing  of  unfriendly  criticisms  of  acquain- 
tances. It  savors  too  much  of  gossip,  which  is  the 
least  refined  species  of  conversation." 

"She  is  entirely  right,  daughter!"  affirmed  Paul 
kindly. 

Helen  forestalled  further  remark: 

"But,  grandmother!  how  am  I  to  let  you  know 
which  Mrs.  Harrison  I  mean?  There  are  three 
of  them." 

"The  senior  is  'Mrs.  Matthew  Harrison';    the 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         87 

next  in  age  is  '  Mrs.  John' ;  the  third  is '  Mrs.  Mark,' " 
pursued  the  chatelaine,  unmindful  of  the  broadening 
smile  upon  Mr.  Rice's  face  and  the  answering  gleam 
in  Beth's  and  Paul's  eyes,  as  the  apostolic  list  went 
on. 

The  opening  was  not  lost  upon  Helen: 

"What  had  poor  Luke  done  that  he  should  be 
left  out  in  the  cold?" 

"You  are  incorrigible,  child  !"  was  the  sole  rebuke 
the  scapegrace  received,  and  she  risked  one  more 
shot: 

"But,  grandmother !  you  must  admit  that  the 
good  lady  is  in  her  anec-dotage ! " 

Disraeli  had  already  coined  the  composite  word, 
but  so  far  as  Helen  knew,  the  play  upon  it  was 
original  with  her.  She  had  never  read  "Lothair." 
Nor,  it  is  charitable  to  assume,  had  the  wits  who, 
a  half-century  later,  exploited  the  witticism  as  their 
own. 

It  sent  the  party  from  the  table  in  a  merry  mood. 
Yet  Beth's  eye  did  not  lose  the  exchange  of  glances 
between  mother  and  son.  The  slight  shake  of  Paul's 
head  and  the  uplift  of  Madam's  brows  told  that  the 
same  dread  was  in  the  mind  of  each.  The  giddy 
child's  resemblance  to  her  mother  in  feature,  manner, 
and  speech  grew  daily  more  striking.  The  flippant 
rattle  of  the  breakfast-table,  irrepressible  in  spirits, 
unscrupulous  in  her  play  upon  the  salient  peculiari- 
ties of  her  "subjects" — might  have  been  the  bride 
of  twenty  years  agone. 

Elizabeth  Moore  had  once  defined  her  creed  to 


88         THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

Mr.  Rice  in  one  of  the  rare  periods  of  introspective 
expression  she  granted  herself: 

"There  is  one  rule  by  which  I  do  not  fear  to  be 
judged.  I  cannot  recollect  when  I  first  took  it  as 
the  law  of  my  conduct:  'Whatsoever,  therefore,  ye 
would  that  men  should  do  unto  you,  do  ye  even  so  unto 
them.1  If  I  am  a  little  weak  upon  other  points  of 
faith  and  doctrine,  it  is  because  obedience  to  this 
one  takes  all  my  time  and  thought." 

And  the  scholar  who  had  buffeted  his  way  through 
deep  and  dark  waters  to  the  Isle  of  Peace,  bowed 
a  reverent  head  and  bade  her  "not  vex  her  soul  with 
theological  disquisitions." 

"Live  out  your  creed,  my  child,  and  the  Master 
Who  gave  it  to  us,  will  see  to  the  rest." 

In  his  heart  he  added :  "Of  such  is  the  Kingdom  of 
Heaven." 

She  was  very  busy  living  it  to-day.  Comprehend- 
ing, intuitively,  that  Madam  Carrington  had  dis- 
tracting cares  in  mind  besides  the  responsibilities 
of  the  impending  "occasion,"  she  tactfully  assumed 
the  entire  direction  of  household  arrangements  for 
the  afternoon  and  engaged  Helen  as  her  lieutenant. 

"Leave  it  to  us,  just  this  once — please!"  was 
her  plea.  "We  have  one  or  two  Philadelphia  kinks 
in  our  heads  that  we  want  to  surprise  country  folks 
with.  It  will  be  great  fun !  Go  out  with  Paul  just 
as  usual!  The  day  is  too  fine  for  you  to  stay  in- 
doors." 

When  the  pair  returned  from  the  "round  of  the 
plantation,"  they  found  the  visible  display  of  the 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         89 

"kinks"  in  the  transfer  of  a  double-leaved  side- 
table  from  the  dining-room  to  the  great  square  draw- 
ing-room corresponding  in  shape  and  dimensions 
with  the  chamber  across  the  hall;  an  array  of  small 
stands,  collected  from  other  parts  of  the  house,  and 
covered  with  white  cloths,  ranged  against  the  inner 
wall  of  the  vine-shaded  porch,  and  a  profusion  of 
flowers  that  filled  all  indoors  with  fragrance. 

Helen,  radiantly  important,  rushed  forward  with 
explanations. 

The  meeting  would  be  in  the  parlor,  the  ladies 
sitting  around  the  room  until  business  began.  Then 
the  donations  would  be  displayed  upon  the  big  table, 
and  done  up  in  bundles  to  be  sent  to  Richmond, 
from  which  depot  they  would  be  shipped  to  New 
York,  thence  to  Hong  Kong  or  Labrador  or  wherever 
the  heathen  were  in  most  perishing  need  of  clothes 
and  religious  poetry.  The  packing  over,  they  would 
have  a  picnic  on  the  porch  of  cool  drinks  and  cake, 
and  such  light  refreshments.  Bouquets  were  to  be 
distributed  to  attending  members  as  souvenirs  of 
the  most  successful  meeting  of  the  season. 

"'Where  an  enjoyable  time  was  had  by  all!' 
That  is  the  way  a  Philadelphia  paper  wrote  up  a 
Sunday-school  tea-party  last  winter.  It  sounds  so 
deliciously  professional !" 

"  That's  right !  Get  all  the  fun  out  of  it  you  can ! " 
was  her  father's  grim  comment.  "Mother!  you 
must  rest  as  soon  as  dinner  is  over !  I  foresee  what 
an  ordeal  is  before  you  ! " 

"She  wouldn't  miss  it  for  the  world!"  affirmed 


90         THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

Helen.  "As  to  the  ordeal — Mrs.  Winston  is  presi- 
dent. Elected  at  the  last  meeting,  'vice  Madam 
Carrington  resigned.'  There  were  resolutions  of 
regret  by  the  bushel.  I  danced  for  joy.  As  if  the 
blessed  grandmother  hadn't  enough  to  do  without 
looking  after  the  souls  of  baby-cannibals,  ten  thou- 
sand miles  away !" 

In  saying  it  she  took  off  her  grandmother's  calash 
and  led  her  hi  to  the  house  "to  lie  down  until  dinner 
was  ready." 

Paul's  and  Beth's  eyes  met  in  tolerant  amuse- 
ment. 

"The  witch's  heart  is  in  the  right  place!"  said 
he.  "And  I  wish  you  could  know,  as  I  do,  how  much 
you  have  had  to  do  with  keeping  it  there!  I  can 
never  tell  you  half  of  the  gratitude  I  feel  for  your 
work  in  that  direction.  And  hi  every  other  mission 
of  mercy,  for  that  matter.  It  is  a  long  story  that 
I  am  hoping  to  tell  you  when  the  right  time  comes. 
I  only  hope  you  may  not  find  it  wearisome." 

They  stood  together  in  the  silent  drawing-room, 
cool  with  gray-green  shadows,  and  redolent  of  rose- 
scent. 

The  warm  brown  eyes  that  were  her  chief  beauty 
were  raised  in  frank  pleasure  at  his  praise. 

"I  love  the  child  so  dearly — "  she  began. 

Then,  as  his  look  did  not  release  hers,  she  hesi- 
tated, and  spoke  slowly,  as  if  perplexed  and  groping 
for  right  utterance:  "You  exaggerate  the  little  I 
have  been  allowed  to  do  for  her — and  for  any  of 
you." 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         91 

She  came  to  a  dead  stop,  the  color  mounting 
slowly  to  her  forehead — then  rallied  her  thought: 

"You  forget  how  much  I  owe  to  your  mother — 
and  to  all  of  you." 

He  released  the  hand  he  had  taken  at  the  last 
word,  as  Helen  flew  into  the  room.  Instinctively, 
Paul  placed  himself  between  her  and  Beth. 

"What  is  it?"  He  had  nearly  added  an  impa- 
tient "Now/" 

"Only  that  the  dear  grandmother  won't  sleep  a 
wink  until  you  are  reminded  that  you  are  to  draw 
the  corks  of  the  bottles — shrub,  currant-wine,  cider, 
and  all,  before  you  go.  And  see  they  are  packed 
in  ice.  She  cannot  trust  anybody  but  you  or  Mr. 
Rice  to  do  it  when  there  are  to  be  so  many  drinkers. 
Mark!  I  didn't  say  'drunkards'!  I  have  promised 
for  you  that  you  would  attend  to  it,  as  soon  as  you 
swallow  your  dinner." 

Mr.  Winston  had  as  reported  by  Helen,  "hoped 
for  a  full  attendance  of  members  of  the  Ladies'  For- 
eign Missionary  Society."  The  hope  was  bounti- 
fully fulfilled.  By  half  past  three,  the  string  of 
carriages  in  front  of  the  High  Hill  gate  extended 
clear  to  the  stables  a  hundred  yards  distant.  The 
double-leaved  table  in  the  parlor  was  heaped  high 
with  parcels  and  bags;  every  one  of  the  horsehair 
chairs  lining  the  walls  was  occupied,  and  a  dozen 
more  seats  of  varying  patterns  and  sizes  were  pro- 
duced to  meet  the  overflow.  The  society  was  but 
six  years  old,  and,  up  to  the  last  monthly  meeting, 
Madam  Carrington — unanimously  elected  at  the 


92         THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  BILL 

organization  of  the  band — had  been  the  presiding 
officer.  Her  reasons  for  resigning  were  sufficient 
for  herself,  and  when  she  expounded  them,  convinced 
the  judgment  of  her  coadjutors. 

The  pastor's  wife  was  the  right  woman  for  the 
office.  She  was  in  the  prime  of  life,  hale  and  ener- 
getic, and  an  adept  in  church  work,  having  occupied 
this  office  in  her  husband's  former  charge  and  ac- 
quitted herself  creditably.  Madam  pledged  herself 
to  labor  as  earnestly  as  a  private  as  she  had  as  an 
officer.  In  short,  she  had  "made  up  her  mind," 
and  everybody  who  heard  her  say  it  comprehended 
the  futility  of  opposition. 

Mrs.  Winston  opened  the  meeting  with  an  original 
extemporaneous  prayer,  an  innovation  upon  prec- 
edent that  was  almost  a  shock  to  certain  conserva- 
tives, reared  in  the  nurture  and  admonition  of  a 
denomination  that  was  pro-Pauline  with  respect  to 
the  sound  of  feminine  voices  in  religious  assemblies. 
Madam  Carrington's  practice  was,  after  calling  the 
meeting  to  order,  to  invite  all  present  to  repeat 
the  Lord's  Prayer  in  unison,  her  mellow  contralto 
sounding  the  pitch  and  leading  reverently.  Then 
a  hymn  was  sung  and  the  secretary  read  a  report. 
After  which  preliminaries  the  business  of  soliciting 
contributions  for  the  next  invoice  of  gifts,  and  pack- 
ing and  addressing  those  in  hand  was  carried  out, 
and  the  usual  "light"  refection  prescribed  by  the 
By-laws  served.  Madam's  strong  common  sense 
dictated  that  unrestricted  hospitality  would  lead  to 
degeneration  of  a  religious  service  into  feasting,  if 
not  revelry. 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         93 

"I  will  say  that  was  as  handsome  a  prayer  as 
any  preacher  could  have  made!"  Helen  had  the 
luck  to  hear  the  wife  of  the  Beaumant  overseer 
(who  was  a  Presbyterian,  hence  eligible  to  member- 
ship) whisper  to  a  lady  who  sat  near  her. 

The  petition  was  well  conceived  and  devoutly 
uttered.  Then  the  fourteenth  chapter  of  Saint 
John  was  read  responsively,  and  the  newly  installed 
incumbent  addressed  the  meeting  briefly.  After 
thanking  them  in  a  few  well-chosen  words  for  tide 
honor  they  had  shown  her  in  electing  her  to  preside 
over  their  deliberations,  and  expressing  the  fervent 
hope  that  their  association  might  be  for  their  common 
improvement  in  the  Christian  life  and  to  the  glory 
of  the  Master,  she  brought  forward  the  first  item 
of  business  suggested  by  her — a  scheme  that  had 
been  approved  by  the  few  to  whom  she  had  men- 
tioned it  as  likely  to  advance  the  cause  they  had 
at  heart  because  they  would  take  a  more  intelligent 
interest  in  speqific  than  in  general  work.  She  held 
in  her  hand  the  copy  of  a  letter  from  a  woman  mis- 
sionary in  Ceylon  which  had  been  forwarded  to  her 
from  the  main  missionary  society  in  New  York. 
If,  after  hearing  the  story  the  writer  had  to  tell  of 
existing  conditions  in  that  beautiful  island,  members 
agreed  with  her  hi  deciding  to  devote  their  offerings 
for  this  quarter-year,  at  least,  to  the  support  of  the 
Ceylon  Mission — they  could  vote  to  that  effect. 

The  letter  was  undeniably  interesting  and  graphic. 
The  deplorable  ignorance  and  debasement  of  their 
sister-women  in  the  island  was  described  with  un- 


94         THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

feigned  feeling,  and  the  plea  for  help  in  the  task 
of  bettering  them  physically  and  morally,  and  above 
all,  spiritually,  was  touching  in  its  very  simplicity 
and  tenderness. 

Madam  Carrington's  deep  tone  broke  the  eloquent 
silence  that  ensued:  "I  move  that,  for  the  next 
year,  the  contributions  of  the  Ladies'  Foreign  Mis- 
sionary Society  of  Mount  Hor  church  be  devoted 
to  the  Presbyterian  Mission  in  the  Island  of  Cey- 
lon." 

"I  second  the  motion!"  said  Mrs.  Matthew  Har- 
rison. It  was  carried  unanimously  and  enthusiasti- 
cally. 

Mrs.  Winston  held  an  open  hymn-book,  and  looked 
over  it  at  her  audience: 

"I  think  it  would  stimulate  our  zeal  in  the  task 
we  have  undertaken  if  we  were  to  sing  two  verses 
of  the  hymn 

" '  From  Greenland's  icy  mountains — ' 

beginning  with 

"'What  'though  the  spicy  breezes 
Blow  soft  o'er  Ceylon's  isle.' 

The  hymn  is  so  familiar  to  us  all  that  I  need  not 
read  it." 

Beth  had  been  notified  in  advance  what  would 
be  required  of  her,  and  was  in  her  seat  at  the  piano 
by  the  time  the  president  ceased  to  speak.  At  the 
first  bar  of  the  grand  old  tune,  every  woman  arose 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         95 

to  her  feet  as  by  one  impulse,  and  the  music  went 
with  a  will.  Tears  struggled  with  smiles  of  religious 
exaltation  upon  many  faces  as  they  resumed  their 
seats.  Ceylon  seemed  very  near,  and  the  pious 
phrase  that  had  fallen  trippingly  hundreds  of  times 
from  their  lips — "Zeal  for  souls  for  whom  Christ 
died" — had  borrowed  meaning  it  would  never  lose. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

"Ix  was  more  solemn  than  being  in  church,"  Helen 
said  that  afternoon  to  Mr.  Rice.  "And" — her 
face  dimpling  roguishly — "even  old — I  mean  Mrs. 
Matthew  Harrison — did  not  tell  an  anecdote  for 
the  next  half-hour.  Give  me  credit  for  not  asking 
Miss  Zephine  Anderson  if  there  are  baby-cannibals 
in  Ceylon.  Somehow — I  can't  exactly  express  what 
I  mean — but  when  one  gets  so  much  as  a  glimpse 
of  the  real  thing — in  religion,  and  in  everything 
else — foolish  fancies  slink  out  of  sight.  It  is  only 
shams  that  are  ridiculous." 

"Thank  you  for  telling  me  all  about  it,"  said 
the  Little  Minister,  in  his  kindest  tone.  "And  most 
of  all,  I  am  glad  that  you  know  the  real  pearl  of 
price  when,  as  you  say,  you  get  a  glimpse  of  it." 

They  were  in  the  office-door.  Helen  had  run  in 
to  return  "Oliver  Twist"  and  to  borrow  "The  Old 
Curiosity  Shop."  She  fluttered  the  leaves  carelessly 
as  she  talked. 

"I  am  not  a  bit  afraid  of  ministers,  Mr.  Rice. 
Most  of  the  girls  I  know  are.  They  are  afraid  they 
will  be  talked  to  on  'the  subject  of  religion.'  Ugh! 
how  I  hate  the  canting  phrase!  One  girl  says 
preachers  are  prime  company  six  days  in  the  week, 
but  she  runs  as  soon  as  they  begin  to  quote  Scrip- 
ture. I  think  it  is  dreadful  to  make  the  Bible  a  bug- 
bear. One  of  the  first  things  I  can  recollect  was 

96 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         97 

sitting  in  your  lap  in  this  very  door  and  begging 
for  Bible  stories.  You  made  little  Samuel  and  David 
as  real  to  me  as  if  they  lived  on  the  next  plantation. 
New  Testament  stories  were  the  best  of  all!" 

"Not  'were,'  dear  child,  but  'are'!  And  when 
we  talk  them  over  in  heaven  we  shall  find  that  we 
have  just  begun  to  understand  how  beautiful  they 
are." 

Helen  sat  down  upon  the  broad  door-step  and 
her  host  turned  the  rush-bottomed  chair  that  stood 
on  the  turf  beside  the  door,  so  as  to  face  her.  To 
remain  indoors  at  this  hour  and  in  such  weather 
was  not  to  be  thought  of. 

The  acacia- tree  shading  the  front  of  "the  office" 
was  in  full  flower.  The  rising  evening  breeze  shook 
a  cluster  of  pink-and-white  filaments  upon  the  girl's 
book.  She  picked  them  up  and  threaded  them  lov- 
ingly through  her  fingers. 

"'Our  rocks  are  bare,  but  smiling  there, 
The  acacia  waves  her  yellow  hair.' " 

She  hummed  the  tune  with  the  words,  musingly. 

"Auntie  says  there  is  a  variety  that  has  yellow 
blossoms.  The  home  of  the  acacia  must  be  Arabia. 
You  know  how  the  song  runs?" 

She  sang  softly  and  clearly: 

" '  Come  to  the  desert !  fly  with  me ! 
Our  Arab  tents  are  rude  for  thee. 
But  oh !  the  choice  what  heart  can  doubt 
Of  tents  with  love,  and  thrones  without?' 


98         THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

"I  suppose" — dreamily — "they  are  heathen  there, 
too?" 

"To  whom  the  church  has  sent  missionaries. 
Look  at  the  bright  side." 

She  went  on  as  if  he  had  not  spoken: 

"Ignorant  savages,  who  never  say  a  prayer,  or 
hear  of  Christ;  who  beat  their  children  to  death 
when  they  get  angry,  and  treat  their  wives  worse 
than  American  men  treat  dumb  animals.  Men, 
women,  and  children  who  live  like  the  beasts  and 
die,  generation  after  generation,  and  go — where?" 

"It  is  very  dreadful,  my  child!  Thank  God  that 
Christians  are  awakening  to  a  sense  of  our  duty  to 
the  outer  'world  lying  in  wickedness  and  sin.'  The 
progress  of  missions  in  the  last  half-century  has 
been  most  gratifying.  And  the  promise  is  explicit. 
'The  knowledge  of  the  Lord  shall  cover  the  earth 
as  the  waters  cover  the  sea.'  I  am  glad  you  do  not 
run  away  as  soon  as  a  minister  quotes  Scripture! 
It  comes  naturally  to  my  lips  and  I  say  the  words 
before  I  know  it.  Nothing  of  man's  devising  is  ever 
so  appropriate." 

Helen  was  separating  the  pink-and-white  strands 
of  the  acacia,  and  strewing  them  on  the  ground, 
but,  it  was  evident,  not  in  idle  thought. 

"Mr.  Rice!"  she  broke  out  abruptly,  "have  you 
ever  been  to  the  poorhouse?  What  sort  of  place 
is  it?" 

He  looked  around  at  her  in  amused  surprise. 

"You  mean  the  poorhouse  in  this  county?  I 
have  not  been  there  of  late  years.  When  I — before 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL         99 

I  lost  my  voice — I  used  to  preach  there  nearly  every 
month.  I  imagine  it  is  very  much  now  what  it  was 
then.  There  are  more  inmates,  I  have  heard." 

"Tell  me  more  about  it!  It  is  a  dreadful  place — 
isn't  it?" 

"If  you  mean  by  'dreadful'  that  the  inmates 
are  starved,  or  ill-treated  in  any  way,  the  county 
authorities  see  to  that.  The  superintendent,  the 
'Poor  Master'  as  he  might  be  called — lives  on  the 
premises  although  in  a  separate  house  from  the 
main  building  where  most  of  the  paupers  are  lodged. 
He  has  held  the  office  for  twenty  years  and  must 
understand  his  business,  or  he  would  not  be  re- 
tained." 

' '  The  paupers ! ' '  repeated  Helen,  f rowning.  ' '  Who 
are  they?  Are  they  all  white  men  and  women? 
And  how  many  are  there  ?  And  how  did  they  happen 
to  be  there  ?  Are  they  all  there  for  the  rest  of  their 
lives?  Could  not  some  of  them  make  an  honest 
living  if  they  were  given  the  chance  to  work?" 

"What  a  storm  of  questions!"  He  patted  the 
nervous  hands  playfully.  "Give  a  fellow  tune  to 
answer  half  of  them!  There  are,  in  the  county 
poorhouse,  which  would  be  an  'almshouse'  in  your 
better-spoken  Philadelphia,  perhaps  thirty — maybe 
forty — people  who  would  be  a  burden  and  a  danger 
to  the  community  if  suffered  to  try  to  take  care  of 
themselves.  Some  are  too  old  to  earn  a  living;  and 
having  no  relatives  or  friends  able  or  willing  to  sup- 
port them,  have  'come  on  the  county,'  as  we  say. 
Others  are  lazy  and  inefficient  and  worn  out  by 


ioo       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

dissipation.  The  law  that  a  man  must  earn  his 
bread  by  the  sweat  of  his  face  holds  good  the  world 
over.  If  a  man  is  not  able,  physically  and  mentally, 
to  do  this,  the  community  takes  pity  on  him  and 
sees  that  he  is  fed,  clothed,  and  lodged  for  the  rest 
of  his  life." 

In  response  to  the  painfully  perplexed  face  up- 
turned to  his,  he  pursued  in  a  yet  more  fatherly 
tone: 

"It  seems  hard,  I  know,  but  it  is  really  the  most 
merciful  course  that  can  be  pursued.  It  is  adopted 
in  all  Christian  communities.  But  for  religion, 
paupers  would  be  put  to  death  as  offense  to  able- 
bodied  and  prosperous  folks.  Don't  you  see?" 

She  ignored  the  query  again. 

"Are  there  any  colored  paupers?" 

"None  except  free  negroes.  One  of  the  beneficent 
features  of  slavery  is  that  the  master  regards  his 
servants  as  an  integral  part  of  his  family.  I  have 
never  heard  of  an  old  or  diseased  negro  who  was 
neglected  or  turned  out  to  shift  for  himself.  You 
know  as  well  as  I  do,  how  old  and  infirm  and  sickly 
servants  are  treated  on  this  plantation." 

"I  know!  I  know!"  impatiently.  "Do  the  col- 
ored paupers  live  in  the  same  house  with  the  white  ?  " 

"  Child,  what  a  silly  question !  They  have  sepa- 
rate quarters  in  another  part  of  the  grounds.  There 
are  not  many  of  them,  and  nearly  all  are  able  to  do 
some  work  part  of  the  time.  The  men  take  care 
of  the  chickens  and  mules  and  work  in  the  garden. 
Nearly  all  the  housework  is  done  by  the  colored 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       101 

women.  They  are,  as  everybody  knows,  the  laziest 
creatures  alive,  and  they  would  crowd  the  poor- 
house  if  they  were  not  forced  to  work  when 
there." 

The  questioner  grew  more  judicial  in  pushing 
investigations.  All  traces  of  her  habitual  flippancy 
were  gone. 

"You  say  you  used  to  preach  there  once  a  month 
or  so.  Are  there  church-members  there?  If  so, 
why  do  not  their  churches  look  after  them?  It 
is  a  disgrace  to  the  Christian  religion  to  let  a  brother 
or  sister  'go  on  the  county,'  as  you  call  it.  Saint 
James  would  not  have  allowed  it,  I  am  sure.  You 
recollect  what  he  says  about  telling  a  brother  or 
sister  who  is  naked,  or  destitute  of  daily  food,  to 
'run  along  and  take  care  of  himself.'  Those  are 
not  quite  the  words  he  used,  but  that  is  what  he 
meant." 

The  Little  Minister  laughed  outright.  He  was 
fond  of  Helen  and  he  was  enjoying  her  hugely  now. 

"You've  got  the  gist  of  it,  all  right.  And  let  it 
be  said  in  justice  to  the  church  of  to-day,  that  it 
does  take  care  of  its  poor.  There  are  not  many  in 
our  prosperous  county.  I  do  not  think  that  we 
have  one  really  indigent  member  in  our  own  church. 
When  I  knew  the  poorhouse  there  were  perhaps 
three  or  four  paupers  who  professed  to  have  once 
belonged  to  the  Methodist  Church.  If  they  told 
the  truth,  the  'fall  from  grace'  was  far  and  hard. 
To  sum  up  the  facts  in  the  case  that  seems  to  puzzle 
you — it  would  be  hard  to  find  a  more  disreputable 


102       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

crew  in  a  civilized  land  than  the  men  and  women 
whom  the  Poor  Master  used  to  drive  into  the  dining- 
room  when  the  monthly  preaching  service  was  held. 
He  was  very  strict  in  requiring  their  attendance 
and  insisted  that  they  should  behave  decently  when 
there.  But  it  was  a  sorry  show  throughout — poor 
wretches!  I  had  the  horrors  for  a  week  afterward. 
The  women  brought  their  children  with  them,  and 
they  were  apt  to  be  noisy  and  there  was  always  a 
baby  or  two  that  cried  and  had  to  be  taken  out. 
It  was  hard  to  restore  even  a  show  of  order  after- 
ward. It  is  not  a  pleasant  memory,  you  may  be 
sure!" 

Helen's  eyes  were  wide  with  the  excitement  of  a 
new  discovery. 

"Children!  Babies!"  she  ejaculated.  "You  did 
not  tell  me  there  were  married  people  there! 
Think  of  poor  innocent  babies  being  born  and 
brought  up  in  the  poorhouse!  They  ought  to  be 
taken  away  and  adopted  into  well-off  families  where 
they  would  have  a  chance  to  grow  up  respectable 
citizens.  What  becomes  of  them  when  they  are 
old  enough  to  be  taught  to  read  and  to  work  ?  And 
how  many  of  them  are  born  to  this  fate?" 

The  bachelor  under  fire  was  restless.  Unwilling 
to  remind  the  inquisitor  of  Saint  Paul's  reference 
to  things  "not  convenient  to  be  spoken  of,"  he 
writhed  in  the  rush-bottomed  chair  like  an  impaled 
angleworm. 

"Dear  child!"  he  protested  feebly.  "As  I  told 
you,  I  know  next  to  nothing  about  the  condition 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       103 

of  matters  at  the  county  poorhouse  now.  And, 
to  be  frank  with  you,  the  subject  is  not  agreeable 
or  profitable.  There  are  plenty  of  others  better 
worth  thinking  and  talking  of!" 

"Hindoo  mothers  drowning  their  babies  in  the 
Ganges,  for  example  ?  " 

The  retort  was  more  like  a  snarl  than  a  sneer. 
"And  cannibals  lunching  upon  cold  missionary! 
And  Ceylon's  isle  that  is  not  converted  by  spicy 
breezes  and  pleasing  prospects!  That  is  decent 
and  edifying  stuff  for  Presbyterian  Virginia  Chris- 
tians to  talk  about  and  pray  and  sing  over!  And 
here  within  six  miles  of  us  and  within  four  of  Mount 
Hor  church  is  what  I  make  out,  from  what  I  have 
dragged  out  of  you,  to  be  a  den  of  iniquity  into  which 
no  'nice,'  God-fearing  woman  should  step  for  fear 
of  soiling  her  shoes !  I  heard  something  of  this  to- 
day but  I  could  not  believe  it.  So  I  had  my  reasons 
for  cross-examining  you."  She  was  talking  very 
fast  and  her  eyes  were  live  coals.  "The  delicate- 
minded  sisters  who  rolled  the  savory  morsel  under 
their  tongues  were  whispering  together  over  the 
box  of  pious  poetry  they  were  packing  for  Ceylon. 
Grandmother  will  not  allow  gossiping  at  missionary 
meetings.  But  my  ears  are  quick  and  I  picked  up 
enough  to  inflame  my  curiosity.  They  were  ex- 
changing poorhouse  yarns  by  the  dozen.  The  latest 
and  most  thrilling  was  the  tale  of  a  woman  who 
used  to  live  in  this  county  and  ran  away  to  be 
married,  ever  and  ever  so  many  years  ago.  And 
now  she  has  got  sick  of  eating  husks  (and  hers  don't 


104       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

seem  to  have  been  buttered)  and  she  has  come  back 
to  find  that  there  is  no  father's  house,  and  'many 
servants/  and  bread  to  spare  for  her.  All  her  kith 
and  kin  have  died  or  moved  away  to  parts  unknown. 
The  only  place  open  to  the  prodigal  is  the  poorhouse. 
God  help  her!  It's  a  wonder  they  took  her  in  there! 
It  was  Mrs.  Matthew  Harrison  who  was  best  in- 
formed, as  might  have  been  expected.  She  is  primed 
with  anecdotes  for  a  year  to  come.  She  had 
apologized  for  being  late  in  coming  to  the  meeting 
by  saying  she  was  'unexpectedly  detained.'  It 
seems  she  heard  the  poorhouse  tale  at  the  Cross 
Roads  post-office.  She  had  her  carriage  turned 
right  around  and  drove  three  miles  out  of  the  way 
to  call  by  the  poorhouse  and  'get  at  the  truth.'  That 
was  the  way  she  put  it.  She  was  pouring  it  all  out 
to  Miss  Louise  Marshall,  who  had  'heard  part  of 
the  story  but  couldn't  believe  it.'  Mrs.  Harrison 
certified  that  it  was  true.  She  had  seen  the  Poor 
Master  with  her  own  eyes  (she  spoke  as  if  she  were 
in  the  habit  of  borrowing  other  folks'  optics).  Mr. 
Blankenship  (that's  the  Poor  Master's  name)  knew 
Molly  Watkins  as  well  as  if  she  had  been  his  own 
child,  and  there  was  no  mistake — I  beg  your  par- 
don!" 

Her  auditor  had  arisen  hastily  and  brushed  her 
shoulder  on  his  way  into  the  room  behind  her.  Worse 
and  worse!  He  shut  the  door  and  locked  it.  Con- 
science-stricken into  a  horror  of  remorse  and  amaze- 
ment, and  driven  by  the  mad  impulse  to  find  a  lonely 
corner  in  which  she  might  weep  out  her  passion  of 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       105 

dismay  and  anger — she  sped  across  the  lawn  to 
the  garden-gate  and  down  the  alley  to  the  rose- 
arbor  to  behold  her  father  and  Beth  Moore  seated 
within  in  close  converse. 


CHAPTER  DC 

THE  location  of  the  Poor  House  was  selected  by  the 
freeholders  of  the  county,  seventy  odd  years  before 
my  story  began,  for  what  were  in  their  eyes  good 
and  sufficient  reasons. 

Imprimis  and  indisputable — the  institution  was 
not  a  credit  to  State  or  neighborhood.  It  was,  at 
the  best,  reluctant  recognition  of  an  inevitable  ex- 
isting evil — incurable  poverty. 

Secondly,  room  must  be  made  for  the  necessary 
buildings  and  grounds  at  as  little  expense  and  in- 
convenience to  prosperous  folk  as  was  consistent 
with  a  merciful  degree  of  comfort  to  the  prospective 
paupers.  Sanitary  conditions  must  be  regarded, 
since  neglect  of  these  would  invite  sickness  and 
consequent  increase  of  expense  to  the  board  of 
management.  To  appropriate  for  the  site  fertile 
low  grounds  and  arable  slopes  would  involve  the 
loss  of  tobacco  and  wheat  crops.  Flat  old  fields 
drained  into  barrenness  by  successions  of  "yields" 
without  enrichment  of  the  once-generous  soil,  com- 
mended themselves  to  the  economic  interests  of 
opulent  planters.  Belts  of  native  pines  and  clumps 
of  scrub-oaks  would  supply  firewood  for  years  to 
come  and  serve  the  double  purpose  of  screening 
the  uncomely  groups  of  buildings  that  were  to  take 
shape  with  the  increase  of  the  pauper  population. 

106 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL        107 

Lastly,  the  projected  eyesore  must  not  be  so  near 
the  public  road  as  to  invite  curious  or  mischievous 
visitors  and  penniless  tramps. 

Accordingly,  when,  on  the  morning  succeeding 
the  missionary  meeting,  Paul  Carrington  drew  rein 
at  the  by-road  diverging  from  the  main  highway 
known  as  the  "Richmond  and  Lynchburg  Stage 
Road,"  he  alighted  to  let  down  "draw-bars"  in  the 
"snake"  fence  of  split  rails  hoary  with  age  that 
stretched  its  dreary  length  for  many  rods  on  either 
hand.  After  dropping  the  bars  back  in  their  sockets, 
Paul  remounted  and  rode  slowly  onward.  The 
ill-kept  road  wound  in  a  slovenly  fashion,  following 
the  natural  undulations  of  the  ground  through  the 
aforementioned  "old  field."  An  expanse  of  yellow- 
ing broom-straw  that  brushed  his  stirrups  when, 
as  often  happened,  it  encroached  upon  the  wheel- 
track,  was  dotted  by  rotting  tree  stumps,  relics  of 
a  day  when  land  was  abundant  and  laborers  were 
lazy.  Large  tracts  of  virgin  forests  were  cleared 
for  the  cultivation  of  soil  black  with  fatness  from 
the  deposit  of  dead  leaves  for  centuries  past.  Hun- 
dreds of  acres  were  made  available  for  receiving 
seeds  of  wheat,  corn,  and  tobacco  by  "girdling"  the 
larger  trees  eight  or  ten  feet  above  the  roots,  and 
leaving  them  to  die  and  decay  at  leisure.  For  years, 
crops  were  gathered  from  fields  that  had  not  had 
in  that  time  one  pound  of  manure  or  fertilizer  of 
any  kind.  When,  in  the  processes  of  nature,  they 
became  sterile,  they  were  abandoned  to  tough  wild 
grasses,  and  in  the  edges  of  the  woods,  to  chincapin- 


io8       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

bushes.  Clumps  of  these  hardy  natives  fringed 
the  belt  of  pines  and  scrub-oaks  that  mercifully 
veiled  from  the  main  road  that  which  came  into 
our  pedestrian's  view  at  the  last  crook  of  the  wheel- 
track. 

A  long,  low  frame  house,  a  story  and  a  haK  in  height 
was  flanked  on  the  right  by  a  dozen  or  more  huts, 
some  of  logs,  others  of  clapboards.  A  smaller  col- 
lection of  log  cabins  constructed  after  the  most 
primitive  fashion,  was  on  the  left,  and  back  of  all 
were  log  stables.  Beyond  the  houses  a  snake  fence 
protected  a  garden,  several  acres  in  extent,  from 
the  depredations  of  straying  cattle.  In  a  wing  of 
the  main  building  lived  the  overseer  of  the  poor. 

The  baying  of  three  miserable  curs  brought  him 
to  a  back-door.  He  waddled  around  to  the  front 
by  the  time  the  visitor  halted  at  the  horse-rack. 

"Well!  I  suttinly  warn't  expectin'  to  see  you, 
suh!  and  so  early  in  the  day!"  he  bellowed  when 
within  speaking  distance.  "I  ain't  seen  you  in  a 
dog's  age,  so  to  speak.  Shan't  I  have  your  animal 
carried  'round  to  the  stable?"  as  the  rider  looped 
the  bridle  over  a  hook  of  the  rack. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Blankenship ? "  said  Paul, 
gravely  courteous.  "No,  thank  you!  I  will  leave 
him  here.  I  can  stay  but  a  short  time.  I  hope  that 
you  and  your  family  are  in  good  health?" 

He  shook  hands  with  the  big  fellow  in  saying  it. 
Eight  out  of  ten  men  in  the  county  would  have 
hailed  the  Poor  Master  as  "Rashe !"  and  but  a  little 
more  respectfully  than  they  would  have  greeted 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       109 

a  free  negro.  He  had  sprung  from  humble  stock 
and  the  fact  was  patent  in  every  word  and  action. 
A  majority  of  the  board  of  freeholders  were  agreed 
that  he  was  "just  the  man  for  the  place,"  and  backed 
up  the  decision  by  keeping  him  in  it  for  a  long  term 
of  years.  His  burly  body,  rising  six  feet  in  height, 
was  encased  in  a  striped  blue  shirt,  without  cuffs  or 
collar,  and  a  pair  of  faded  nankeen  trousers.  His 
hair  and  face  were  of  different  shades  of  red,  and  a 
bristling  beard  a  week  old  was  shot  with  gray.  The 
day  was  warm  and  his  sleeves  were  rolled  to  the 
shoulders. 

"  Come  in !  Come  in,  suh !  won't  you  ?  "  he  urged, 
stentorian  and  hospitable.  "We  are  all  right  well, 
suh,  thank  God!  If  you  don't  feel  like  comin'  in, 
I'll  have  some  cheers  brought  out  under  the  trees 
whar  it's  cooler." 

"  If  you  will  be  so  kind  ?  "  assented  Paul,  and  when 
the  stentor  had  ordered,  "Jake,  you  black  nigger! 
fetch  two  cheers  out  hyar — quick  as  lightnin'!  do 
you  hear,  suh!"  the  two  men  were  seated  in  the 
shade  of  an  aspen,  their  feet  upon  a  patch  of  de- 
jected turf,  and  far  enough  away  from  the  windows 
in  which  Paul  could  not  fail  to  see  heads  were  pop- 
ping up  and  down — to  render  conversation  safe. 

"Rashe"  took  the  lead.  He  signed  bills  and  re- 
ceipts "H.  G.  Blankenship,"  and  rumor  had  it  that 
the  initials  stood  for  Horatio  Gates  who  was  a  pop- 
ular military  hero  when  Rashe's  father  was  young. 

"Madam  Carrington  and  the  young  ladies  pretty 
well  ?  She's  a  wonderful  lady  for  her  years.  I  often 


no       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

tell  folks  they  don't  make  sech  any  me'.  They  sut- 
tinly  broke  the  mould  after  she  was  turned  out." 

Paul's  grave  smile  was  inimitable.  He  would 
not  discuss  his  mother  with  the  man,  but  while  upon 
his  premises,  he  would  be  civil. 

"I  thank  you!  They  are  all  in  their  usual  good 
health.  I  will  not  trespass  upon  your  valuable  time, 
Mr.  Blankenship,  but  I  am  here  in  consequence  of 
a  report  that  has  reached  my  mother  and  has  given 
her  much  concern.  Is  it  true  that  a  person  call- 
ing herself  'Mary  Watkins/  and  claiming  to  be 
one  of  the  name  who  once  lived  in  this  county, 
has  lately  been  entered  in  the  poorhouse  as  an  in- 
mate ?  It  sounds  highly  improbable  to  us ! " 

"It  was  so  highly  improberbul  to  me,  suh,  that 
I  would  'a'  swore  on  a  stack  o'  Bibles  a  mile  high, 
that  it  couldn't  be  true  nohow,  ef  I  hadn't  seen  it 
with  my  own  eyes.  She  come  here  on  the  stage  las' 
Wednesday  a  week  ago,  an'  somehow,  hired  or  coaxed 
a  free  nigger  who  come  up  from  town  on  the  top 
of  the  stage,  to  tote  her  trunk  over  here  from  the 
road.  Wasn't  that  jes'  like  the  ole  Molly  Watkins  ? 
I  was  a-standin'  at  the  door  as  she  came  steppin' 
along,  for  all  the  world  like  she  hadn't  walked  all 
the  way  from  the  Richmon'  road — and  says  she— 
'This  can't  be  Mr.  Blankenship?  You  look  too 
young  to  be  the  gentleman  of  that  name  I  used  to 
know!  Time  hasn't  been  so  kind  to  me,  my  ole 
friend!'  And  with  that  up  went  her  handkerchief 
to  ketch  the  tears.  She  looked  so  beat-out  I  thought 
she  was  goin'  to  faint,  an'  I  sung  out  to  my  wife 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       ill 

to  bring  some  brandy  and  cologne.  Well,  suh,  we 
got  her  into  my  house,  and  when  she  come  to,  she 
tole  us  who  she  was  and  how  she  had  been  married 
to  the  man  she  run  away  with,  and  how  she'd 
travelled  pretty  nigh  all  over  the  worP  with  him, 
an'  then  the  rascal  had  left  her  in  Injy,  or  some  sech 
place,  and  she  had  worked  her  way  on  a  vessel  to 
Ameriky,  and  so  from  New  York  to  Richmon',  and 
spent  her  las'  dollar  to  'git  back  to  the  dear  old 
county/  She'd  heerd  in  Richmon'  that  her  folks 
was  all  dead  an'  gone,  years  ago.  Then  she  says 
to  herself:  'I'd  ruther  die  in  sight  of  the  ole  home 
than  live  like  a  lady  anywhere  else.' 

"An'  when  she  foun'  by  askin'  a  man  on  the  stage 
that  'Rashe  Blankenship'  was  still  in  charge  of  the 
po 'house,  she  made  up  her  mind  'to  come  to  me — 
and  die  happy!'  Them  was  her  identickle  words. 
I  believed  her  from  the  fust,  suh.  But  my  wife — 
well,  you  know  how  unbelievin'  these  women  can 
be  of  one  another;  specially  ef  the  other  woman 
is  pretty  an'  has  winnin'  ways  with  her.  So,  my 
wife  she  would  have  it  that  this  mought  be  a  smart 
empostor.  She'd  never  knowed  Molly  Watkins, 
I  havin'  married  her  in  Goochland  for  my  second, 
after  Molly  run  away.  An'  my  wife,  she  must  have 
some  more  evidence  than  my  word  an'  hern.  An' 
would  you  believe  it?  (it  mus'  'a'  been  a  'specific 
Providence,'  as  my  ole  mother  used  to  call  it) — 
it  come  to  me  all  on  a  suddint — that  Molly  Watkins 
had  a  brother  as  wild  as  she  was,  who  went  as  a 
sailor,  and  died  soon  after  he  got  back  from  one  of 


112       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

his  v'yages.  And  in  one  of  his  sprees  he  got  her  to 
agree  to  have  him  tattoo  her  on  the  shoulder. 

"I  needn't  tell  you,  Mr.  Carrington,  that  me  and 
the  Watkinses  warn't  cut  off  the  same  piece  of  goods ! 
But  I  reckon  the  ole  man  knowed  his  boy  mought 
be  in  wuss  comp'ny  than  with  me  when  he  went 
a-fishin'  and  huntin'  and  we  see  quite  a  smart 
deal  of  one  another.  We  was  out  in  the  middle  of 
Jeemses'  River  one  day  fishin' — when  he  up  and  tells 
me  'bout  the  tattooin'  and  how  mad  his  mother  was 
when  she  found  it  out,  and  how  his  sister  stood  up 
for  him  and  declared  she  had  made  him  do  it,  so's 
she  could  be  ketched  and  brought  back  ef  she  took 
a  notion  to  run  away.  And  how  the  ole  lady  never 
knew  nothin'  about  it  'tell  the  marks  was  healed  and 
couldn't  be  got  out. 

"Maybe  you  mought  'a'  heered  about  it?  She 
used  to  joke  about  bein'  'branded  like  any  other 
runaway/  She  was  wild  as  a  hawk,  and  bright  as 
a  dollar.  Now,  suh,  to  come  down  to  business — it 
may  be  accordin'  to  the  law  that  this  'ere  lady  havin' 
been  born  and  raised  in  the  county,  has  a  right  to 
be  taken  into  the  po 'house  and  keered  for  for  the 
rest  of  her  life,  seein'  she's  no  ways  rugged  in  health 
and  not  able  to  work  for  a  livin'.  It  may  be,  as 
some  has  tole  me  a'ready,  that  she  hain't  got  no 
claim  on  the  county,  seein'  as  how  she  run  away 
and  hes  lived  the  life  of  a  common  tramp  for  nigh 
upon  sixteen  year. 

"Whatever  comes  of  the  dispute,  here  she  stays 
as  a  visitor  to  my  wife — if  not  a  county  boarder. 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       113 

"Lordy!  how  I'm  runnin'  on,  to  be  sho'!  I  ain't 
tole  you  yet  that  I  let  my  wife  into  the  secret  of 
the  tattooin'  that  fust  night,  and  she  managed  to 
help  her  ondress — pretendin'  she  wanted  to  rub 
her  back  with  linermint  or  somethin'  like  that.  An' 
sho'  as  you  are  and  I  are  born  an'  alive  this  blessed 
minnit,  thai  was  the  'M.  W.'  plain  as  print  on  the 
po'  creetur's  shoulder!" 

He  extracted  by  difficult  degrees  a  voluminous 
red  bandanna  from  a  hip-pocket  and  blew  his  nose 
sonorously. 

Deep  as  was  Paul's  interest  in  the  extraordinary 
narrative,  he  had  not  failed  to  see  that  every  one 
of  the  front  windows  held  two  or  more  heads,  and, 
glancing  toward  the  wing  of  the  house,  he  plainly 
descried  the  figure  of  a  woman  peering  between 
the  white  curtains  of  a  dormer  casement.  Now 
that  the  main  object  of  his  call  was  gained,  the  sooner 
he  brought  it  to  a  conclusion  the  better. 

"What  you  say  leaves  no  doubt  as  to  the  identity 
of  the  person  to  whom  you  have  given  shelter," 
he  said.  "I  thank  you  for  going  so  fully  into  the 
particulars  of  the  sad  story.  My  mother  will  be 
very  grateful  when  she  hears  of  it.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Watkins  were  her  neighbors  and  friends  and  their 
daughter  was  a  frequent  visitor.  My  mother  was 
much  troubled  by  the  strange  tale  she  heard  through 
an  acquaintance  yesterday." 

Rashe  nodded  sagaciously.  "Ole  Mrs.  Matt 
Harrison,  I'll  bet  a  hat!  She  come  by  yestiday  on 
a-purpose  to  hear  all  there  was  to  hear  and  I,  mis- 


H4       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

trustin'  what  she  was  arfter,  sent  my  wife  to  do 
the  talkin'.  She's  got  no  use  Jpon  the  top  o'  the 
groun'  for  the  ole  high-flier.  So  she  got  jes  the  plain 
fac's  in  the  case  an'  no  'rousements,  as  you  mought 
say. 

"  'Tain't  wuth  while  for  me  to  say  to  you,  suh, 
that  you  an'  Madam  Carrington  (and  she  is  born 
quality  ef  ever  thar  was  one!)  are  welcome  to  any- 
thing I  can  find  out  for  you."  He  raised  a  dissuasive 
hand  as  the  other  would  have  replied.  "The  truth 
is,  suh,  that  Miss  Molly  Watkins  always  had  a  pleas- 
ant smile  an'  kind  word  for  me  whenever  I  happened 
to  meet  her.  An'  one  Chris'mas  I  was  trompin' 
along  the  road  (hard-froze  it  was,  too !)  an'  cussin' 
all  creation  because  my  ma  was  sick,  and  I  hadn't 
had  so  much  as  a  ginger-cake  for  Chris'mas  gift, 
and  up  she  come,  ridin'  her  blooded  mare  an'  in  a 
blue  ridin'-skirt  an'  a  long  feather  in  her  cap — an' 
a  spry  young  chap  from  town  with  her.  And  would 
you  believe  it,  suh?  she  stopped  short  and  ast  me 
how  was  my  ma,  and  tole  me  thar  would  be  a  basket 
of  good  things  sont  to  our  house  from  Mrs.  Watkins's 
kitchen,  and  with  that  she  took  out  of  her  pocket  a 
shiny  silver  dollar  and  thro  wed  it  to  me. 

"  'That's  fur  you!'  says  she.  'An'  I  hope  you'll 
have  a  nice  Chris'mas!' 

"All  that  makes  me  say  what  I  do  say,  Mr.  Car- 
rington. Her  that  was  good  to  me  then,  ain't  goin' 
to  find  me  a-goin'  back  on  her  when  she's  in  trouble. 
That  ain't  my  sort!" 

Paul  held  out  his  hand  impulsively:  "I  honor  you 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       115 

for  the  resolution,  and  if  I  have  any  influence  with 
the  board  of  management,  it  shall  be  exerted  to 
keep  the  poor  woman  under  your  hospitable  roof. 
She  may  have  gone  wrong  in  the  past.  It  is  not 
for  us  to  judge  her.  If,  at  any  tune,  I  can  be  of 
any  service  to  you  in  this  matter,  you  will  do  me  a 
favor  by  letting  me  know  it." 

A  big  fist,  in  color,  shape,  and  texture  not  unlike 
a  Westphalia  ham,  closed  upon  the  other's  fingers. 
The  red  bandanna  was  again  hi  evidence. 

"You  may  depend  upon  it,  that  I  will  do  that 
same,  suh!  'Tain't  them  that  thinks  themselves 
saints  that  has  the  softest  hearts.  I  ain't  lived 
forty-seven  years  in  this  'ere  world  o'  sin  and  sor- 
row not  to  know  that." 

"May  I  ask  if  there  is  anything  my  mother  can 
send  to  you  to  make  your  guest  more  comfortable? 
You  say  she  is  not  strong?  Is  she  ill?" 

"Not  just  that,  suh,  but  weakly  like.  She's 
changed  mightily,  of  course,  in  all  these  years — an' 
knockin'  around  the  world  as  she's  done.  But  she's 
mighty  peart  with  it  all !  You  wouldn't  believe 
how  much  int'rust  the  paupers"  (he  pronounced  it 
"poppers")  "take  in  her  already.  She  goes  'round 
among  them  and  says  funny  things — jest  as  she 
useter,  you  recollect?  and  the  children — Lordy! 
if  you  could  see  her  with  'em!  Tellin'  'em  stories 
and  carryin'-on  like  she  was  twenty,  instid  of  fifty. 
She  can't  be  far  from  that !  She  looks  every  day  of 
it.  Maybe  you  would  like  to  see  her  for  yourself?" 
rising  with  surprising  alacrity  for  one  of  his  bulk. 


Paul  recoiled  with  an  inward  shudder. 

"No,  thank  you!  It  would  be  painful  for  us  both. 
But  you  will  not  forget  what  I  have  said  of  our  wish 
to  be  of  service  to  you  should  occasion  require? 
Pardon  me  for  taking  so  much  of  your  valuable  time. 
Again  I  thank  you!  Good  morning!" 

Rashe  walked  to  the  horse-rack  with  him  and 
stood  watching  the  well-built  figure  ride  away  until 
lost  behind  the  screen  of  pines  and  scrub-oaks. 

"A  gentleman,  through  and  through,  ef  ever 
thar  was  one!"  he  muttered  in  the  bristly  growth 
on  lips  and  chin.  "I  wisht  he  had  a-gone  in  to  speak 
to  her,  but  I  s'pose  'twoul'  been  a  trial  to  both  on 
'em." 

His  wife  met  him  in  the  house  door,  wild  with 
curiosity.  She  was  a  scrawny  woman  in  a  purple 
calico  gown  and  checked  blue-gingham  apron.  Her 
hair  was  twisted  up  so  tightly  in  curl-papers  that 
the  row  outlining  her  forehead  had  the  effect  of 
pulling  the  eyebrows  into  two  peaks. 

"Well!  well  I  WELL!"  was  the  salutation  that 
assailed  him.  "What  did  the  high-and-mighty 
lord  of  all  the  earth  want  with  you  ?  Set  down  and 
tell  us  all  about  it.  Every  livin'  cretur  on  the  place 
has  been  a-watchin'  of  you  two,  a-settin'  under 
the  tree  and  lookin'  like  you  was  a-settlin'  the  affairs 
of  creation." 

"My  friend,  Mr.  Paul  Carrington,  called  to  see 
me  upon  a  matter  of  business  that  didn't  concern 
you  or  the  rest  of  the  females  who  disgraced  the 
institution  by  starin'  out  of  every  winder  as  if  they 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       117 

hadn't  never  saw  a  live  gentleman  before.  Folks 
don't  have  sech  manners  now  as  they  useter  when 
we  was  young,  Miss  Molly." 

"Allow  me  to  make  a  few  exceptions,  Mr.  Blan- 
kenship ! "  said  the  person  addressed  with  a  smile 
that  aimed  the  compliment.  "And  you  two  did 
make  a  picture  worth  seeing,  sitting  in  the  shade, 
with  the  sunshine  falling  down  upon  you  through 
the  leaves.  Mrs.  Blankenship  and  I  could  not  re- 
sist the  temptation  to  'steal  a  sly  glance  at  you.' 
I  am  sure  you  have  not  forgotten  that  old  song: 

"'The  Captain  with  his  whiskers  stole  a  sly  glance  at  me'? 

"It  was  all  the  rage  when  I  was  a  girl.  Ah,  me ! 
how  everything  I  see  about  here  brings  back  some 
memory  of  that  dear  old  time!" 

Her  voice  was  sweet  still,  although  it  had  lost 
the  ring  of  her  girlish  days.  The  soft  elisions  and 
legate  effects  that  characterize  the  patois  of  the 
native-born  Virginian  still  lingered.  Rashe's  wife 
and  Rashe  himself  would  have  pronounced  the 
provincial  phrase  "about  here"  "'boutcher,"  em- 
phasizing the  first  syllable  slightly.  But  her  phrase- 
ology was  that  of  an  educated  gentlewoman,  and 
as  unlike  the  uncouth  talk  of  her  present  hosts  as 
if  she  had  been  born  of  another  race. 

She  was  dressed  very  simply  in  white  with  a  black 
belt  and  necktie.  A  small  cap  of  what  was  known 
as  "bobbinet  lace"  was  tied  under  the  chin  with 
narrow  lutestring  ribbon.  Any  garb  more  unlike 


n8       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

the  dashing  toilets  of  the  Molly  Watkins  of  the 
"dear  old  time"  she  lamented  could  hardly  be  imag- 
ined. There  were  radiating  lines  from  depressions 
that  were  once  bewitching  dimples;  the  thinned 
lips  were  flatter  for  the  loss  of  two  teeth  in  the  lower 
jaw  and  one — an  eye-tooth — in  the  upper.  The 
shoulders  were  bowed  slightly  and  the  stoop  nar- 
rowed the  chest.  Yet  the  wreck  of  a  once-beau- 
tiful woman  had,  in  less  than  a  week,  completed 
the  fascination  of  burly  Rashe,  awakened  the  jeal- 
ousy of  his  scrawny  spouse,  and  stirred  the  muddy 
pool  of  pauper-life  to  its  depths.  Her  inquiries  con- 
cerning the  various  families  of  note  in  the  length 
and  breadth  of  the  county  usually  prefaced  snatches 
and  details  of  fresh  gossip  that  were  as  honey  of 
Hymettus  and  wine  of  Cyprus  to  the  recluses  who 
flocked  to  listen.  She  had  tales,  too,  of  foreign  life 
that  thrilled  the  starvelings  with  the  sense  of  ac- 
quiring information  that  was  an  education  HI  itself. 
With  racy  tidbits  of  each  of  these  varieties  of  dis- 
course she  had  kept  Mrs.  Blankenship  passably 
tolerant  of  the  prolonged  conference  under  the  as- 
pens. In  return,  the  returned  prodigal  had  heark- 
ened to  an  abstract  of  High  Hill  modern  history 
that  would  have  astonished  any  of  the  actors  in 
the  drama. 

Shrewish  accents  struck  in  raspingly  upon  the 
reminiscence  of  the  song  of  long  ago: 

"All  we  could  see  was  that  you  were  gabbling 
sixteen  to  the  dozen,  and  he  was  a-listenin'  very 
polite.  What  was  it  all  about?  You  mought  as 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       119 

well  let  it  out  now,  as  to  wait  until  you  can't  hold 
it  in  no  longer.  For  I  give  you  faar  warnin'  that 
you'll  have  no  peace  of  your  life  'tell  you  do.  Don't 
be  a  downright  fool,  Rashe  Blankenship!" 

The  baited  husband  turned  his  back  squarely 
upon  the  tormentor  and  dragged  a  chair  across  the 
bare  floor  to  plant  it  in  front  of  the  third  party  to 
the  confabulation. 

"Ez  I  come  in  here  on  a-purpose  fur  to  say,  Miss 
Molly,  our  frien'  Mr.  Paul  Carrington  of  High  Hill 
rid  over  this  mornin'  fur  to  fetch  a  message  for  you 
from  his  mother,  Madam  Carrington." 

She  laughed  in  his  face  at  that — and  made  a  spor- 
tive pass  at  him  with  the  turkey-tail  fan  she  was 
waving  lazily  while  the  chat  went  on. 

"Tell  that  to  the  marines!  The  last  tune  I  saw 
the  old  calaripper  she  lectured  me  for  flirting  with 
half  the  men  in  the  county  and  warned  me  that  I 
would  come  to  a  bad  end  if  I  didn't  turn  right  about 
and  join  the  church.  You  must  make  up  a  more 
likely  story,  my  friend." 

Rashe  roared  at  what  was  to  him  the  most  refined 
badinage  he  had  heard  in  an  age.  He  slapped  his 
fat  legs  until  they  shook  like  oblong  moulds  of  jelly. 

"Fact — be  hanged  ef  'tain't !  She  had  heard  you 
were  hi  town"  (jocosely)  "and  wanted  to  know 
ef  'twas  a  hoax." 

"What  bird  of  the  air  carried  the  news?" 

Rashe  roared  himself  to  a  fine  magenta — face, 
bare  arms,  and  all. 

"By  Jingo  that's  a  good  one!    'Twas  a  bird!  a 


120       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

turkey-buzzard!  Ole  Mrs.  Matt  Harrison  who 
is  forever  snoopin'  around  for  news.  So  she  flew 
with  the  mouthful  to  Madam,  and  she  sends  her 
son  and  hair  to  know  ef  Miss  Mary  Watkins  (as 
was)  is  a-stayin'  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Blankenship 
at  present.  I  'lowed  that  she  was,  and  he  said  his 
mother  would  be  blamed  glad  to  hear  it,  and  how 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Watkins  was  old  friends  and  Miss 
Mary  useter  be  at  High  Hill  quite  frequent,  and 
all  that  sort  of  polite  talk.  You  may  be  sure  he 
would  say  the  right  and  proper  thing  always.  Then 
I  ast  him  if  he  wouldn't  step  in  the  house  and  see 
the  lady  for  himself  and  he  reckoned  'twarn't  wuth 
while,  seein'  she  wasn't  feelin'  too  well  arfter  travel- 
lin'  so  fur.  Then  he  ast  if  I'd  let  him  know  ef  thar 
was  anything  he  or  his  mar  could  do  at  any  time 
for  me  an'  mine,  and  'reckoned  'twas  time  to  go.' 
An'  now  you've  had  it  all,  Betsey ! "  wheeling  toward 
his  wife,  whose  growing  chagrin  was  manifest. 
"  'S'pose  you  'lotted  upon  havin'  a  high-seasoned 
plate  o'  hash  for  your  popper  cronies — ole  Aggie 
and  Sally  and  Judy  and  the  balance  of  the  hags. 
Well !  you  can  cook  up  one  without  no  mo'  help  from 
me."  " 

Without  resentment  or  gratification  at  the  tribute 
to  her  inventive  genius,  she  did  not  abate  inquiry: 

"He  didn't  go  out  of  his  way,  I  s'pose,  even  seein' 
you  two  are  so  thick  all  on  a  suddint,  to  invite  you 
to  his  weddin'  nor  say  when  'twas  to  come  off? 
It's  all  the  talk  (and  it  has  been  more  or  less  for's 
long's  I've  lived  hi  this  darned  ole  county)  that 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       121 

he  an*  that  meachin',  mealy-mouthed  ole  maid, 
Beth  Moore,  is  goin'  to  be  made  man  'n'  wife  at 
last!  I  don't  see  why!"  with  vicious  significance. 

"You  heish  your  mouth  an'  keep  it  shet!" 
vociferated  her  husband.  Further  exchange  of 
conjugal  amenities  was  interrupted  by  a  shriek  of 
hysterical  laughter  from  Molly  Watkins. 

"  'Meachin'  an'  mealy-mouthed!'  "  she  repeated. 
"That's  the  best  thing  I  ever  heard,  Mrs.  Blanken- 
ship !  I  wish  /  had  said  it !  I  could  see  her  standing 
there  when  you  brought  it  out  so  patly.  'Meach- 
in'  an'  mealy-mouthed ! '  I  saw  it  coming  long  ago. 
I  told  his  first  wife  that  she'd  find  a  spider  hi  her 
dumpling  some  day  if  she  didn't  look  out.  And 
now  that  she  is  dead  and  gone — what's  to  hinder 
the  wedding  ?  " 

Betsey  swallowed  the  bait: 

"Folks  do  say  that  she  wouldn't  marry  him  'tell 
he  put  up  a  tombstone  for  No.  i.  An'  do  you  know, 
they  say  he  paid  a  thousan'  dollars  for  the  one  that 
come  up  from  Richmon'  this  summer?  Of  course 
I  ain't  seen  it,  not  bein'  on  sech  intermit  terms  with 
the  fambly  ez  Mr.  Blankenship!"  drawling  the 
name  sardonically.  "But  them  that  has  got  a  look 
at  it  says  it's  fine  'nough  for  a  queen's  monerment. 
He  must  'sot  a  deal  o'  store  by  her.  Some  says 
that's  why  he  ain't  never  married  this  one  before. 
You  knowed  her  right  well — didn't  you?"  to  the 
guest  who  was  listening  with  the  flattering  intent- 
ness  she  accorded  to  the  woman  whom  it  was  politic 
to  conciliate. 


122       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

"She  was  as  good  a  friend  as  I  ever  had,"  was 
the  serious  response.  "I  certainly  was  mighty  sorry 
for  her  sometimes.  She  and  the  old  lady  didn't 
agree  very  well,  and  the  son,  knowing  on  which 
side  his  bread  was  buttered,  wouldn't  stand  up  for 
anybody,  not  even  his  wife,  against  the  ole  cat !  The 
baby  is  grown-up,  they  tell  me,  and  a  pretty  girl?" 

"Folks  say  she  is  the  very  spit  an'  image  of  her 
mar!"  struck  in  Betsey,  seeing  Rashe's  lips  part. 
"I  seen  her  two  or  three  tunes  at  the  cote-house 
when  she  come  thar  with  her  grandma  and  her  ant, 
or  whatever  they  make  her  call  what's  goin'  to  be 
her  stepma'  befo'  long.  She  had  big  black  eyes  and 
white  teeth  and  she  looks  lively  as  a  cricket.  I've 
heerd  that  Wirt  Cocke's  oldest  son  is  shinin'  up 
to  her.  Thar'll  be  no  trouble  in  marryin'  of  her  off. 
Thar's  piles  o'  money  in  the  fambly  and  her  new 
ma  is  rich,  too." 

"And  I  hear  that  little  Rice  has  walked  in  and 
hung  up  his  hat  in  the  High  Hill  hall  for  good  and 
all?"  pursued  Miss  Watkins  (that  was)  carelessly. 
"Does  he  look  as  much  like  his  name  as  ever?" 

Husband  and  wife  stared  uncomprehendingly. 

"Heigh?"  grunted  Rashe  inquiringly. 

"He  used  to  be  small  and  white  and  smooth — for 
all  the  world  like  a  big  gram  of  rice.  I  don't  sup- 
pose he  has  altered  much?" 

Rashe  doubled  himself  over  his  big  stomach  and 
haw-hawed. 

"Ain't  you  the  beater ee!  He  does  look  jest  like 
his  name,  and  that's  a  fac'"  but  nobody  else  never 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       123 

thought  of  it  but  you.  He  ain't  never  married 
neither." 

"What  man  would  care  to  marry  him?  And 
he's  too  ladylike  to  attract  a  woman."  She  said 
it  wearily,  picking  up  her  fan  and  yawning. 

"My  good  friends!  this  is  very  pleasant,  but  I 
did  not  sleep  well  last  night,  and  I  must  catch  a 
nap  before  dinner.  If  you  will  excuse  me,  Mrs.  Blan- 
kenship,  I  will  go  to  my  room." 

The  invariable  courtesy  of  her  demeanor  toward 
the  pair  was  the  cunningest  stroke  in  a  system  that 
was  enmeshing  them  as  deftly  and  gradually  as 
the  spider  casts  his  "attenuated  web"  about  an 
overgorged  bluebottle  fly.  She  had  a  web  of  dif- 
ferent mesh  for  each  of  her  victims. 

With  a  parting  smile  addressed  to  both  impar- 
tially, she  mounted  to  the  upper  chamber  from  the 
dormer-window  of  which  she  and  her  hostess  had 
surveyed  Paul  Carrington,  handsome  and  debonair, 
leaning  back  in  the  capacious  "rocker"  brought 
out  by  black  Jack  at  his  master's  summons. 

The  temporary  guest-room  was  a  mean-enough 
place  in  dimensions  and  appointments.  But  Mary 
Watkins,  in  entering  it,  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief  that 
was  a  groaning  sob  and  locked  the  door.  Then  she 
stood  in  the  middle  of  the  bare  floor  and  surveyed 
her  surroundings.  Four  whitewashed  walls  bounded 
carpetless  boards  embrowned  by  the  wear  and  tear 
of  a  succession  of  tenants,  and  that  creaked  as  she 
trod  them.  A  trundle-bed  covered  with  a  calico 
patchwork  quilt,  a  pine  table  that  did  duty  as  a 


124       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

dressing-bureau,  two  straw-bottomed  chairs,  and 
her  own  trunk  made  up  the  furniture.  The  wash- 
bowl and  pitcher  were  of  coarse  crockery  and  the 
lip  of  the  pitcher  was  broken.  A  curtain  of  white 
cotton  cloth  veiled  the  single  window. 

The  unrepentant  prodigal  threw  herself,  face 
downward,  upon  the  feather-bed  that  billowed  suf- 
focatingly over  her  head,  and  tore  at  the  patchwork 
with  her  nails  as  a  wildcat  might  claw  the  ground: 

11  My  God !  is  there  a  lower  deep  than  this?" 


CHAPTER  X 

MADAM  CARRINGTON'S  aversion  to  neighborhood 
gossip  was  so  well  known  that  not  a  whiff  from  the 
tempting  morsel  of  carrion  purveyed  by  Mrs.  Mat- 
thew Harrison,  albeit  shared  with  a  dozen  other 
cronies,  reached  the  hostess.  Beth  Moore  did  not 
enjoy  the  like  blessed  exemption.  Without  inviting 
Mrs.  Harrison's  confidence,  or  encouraging  the 
repetition  of  a  story  pronounced  by  the  purveyor 
aforesaid  to  be  "too  shocking  for  belief,  yet  only 
too  true,"  she  was  the  recipient  of  enough  to  fill 
her  soul  with  horror  she  durst  not  betray  in  language 
or  deportment,  until  the  last  carriage  disappeared 
in  a  whirl  of  dust  down  the  avenue.  Even  then 
Madam  must  be  persuaded  for  the  second  time  that 
day  to  seek  needed  rest  in  the  chamber,  and  the 
servants  who  were  restoring  rooms,  halls,  and 
porches  to  their  ordinary  aspect,  must  be  cautioned 
repeatedly  to  move  quietly  not  to  disturb  their 
mistress. 

These  duties  done,  Beth  sought  her  prime  coun- 
sellor, whom  she  had  banished  from  the  bustling 
scene  of  action  to  the  rose-arbor  an  hour  ago. 

He  had  had  an  abstract  of  the  startling  news 
when  the  whirlwind,  typified  by  Helen,  overwhelmed 
them. 

"Father!  Oh,  auntie!  I  have  made  Mr.  Rice 
so  angry !  and  I  can't,  for  the  life  of  me,  tell  why !" 


126       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

was  the  preamble  to  a  jumbled  report  of  the  dialogue 
in  which  but  one  fact  was  clear  to  the  auditors.  She 
had  blurted  out  to  Mr.  Rice  that  Mrs.  Harrison 
had  talked  of  the  return  of  the  runaway  Molly  Wat- 
kins,  and  that  she  was  in  that  horrid,  dirty  poor- 
house  ! 

"It  wasn't  a  nice  thing  to  talk  about,"  confessed 
the  tearful  penitent,  "but  he  needn't  have  slammed 
the  door  in  my  face !" 

Beth's  cool  palm  covered  the  quivering  lips: 

"There,  dear!  we  will  be  more  careful  another 
time !  Listen !  Helen ! 

"The  unfortunate  woman  was  a  favorite  of  Mr. 
Rice's  when  she  was  young  and  innocent.  He  hoped 
to  receive  her  into  the  church.  Her  elopement  was 
a  terrible  shock  to  him  as  to  us  all.  You  could  not 
know  that  to  hear  her  name  so  abruptly  in  con- 
nection with  the  poorhouse  was  enough  to  take 
his  senses  away  for  a  minute.  But  you  do  know 
what  a  tender  heart  he  has,  and  we  must  spare  him, 
in  this  instance,  as  much  as  we  can.  Your  father 
does  not  wish  that  anything  shall  be  said  of  this 
story  to  your  grandmother  until  he  has  had  a  chance 
to  talk  it  over  with  her.  She  has  not  been  quite 
well  to-day.  She  ought  to  have  a  good  night's  rest. 
And  you  will  help  us  to  give  it  to  her.  Now — this 
is  our  secret  and  we  will  keep  it.  No !  dear  child ! " — 
as  the  culprit  would  have  prolonged  the  confession 
— "  you  have  done  nothing  wrong — nothing  but 
what  I  have  been  doing  for  half-an-hour.  For  I 
could  not  help  hearing  part  of  Mrs.  Harrison's  story, 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       127 

and  I  thought  your  father  ought  to  know  what  was 
going  on.  Now,  you  and  I  will  leave  the  ugly  matter 
in  his  hands.  He  is  our  confidential  adviser." 

The  man  who  met  and  answered  her  smile,  thought 
it  the  loveliest  that  had  ever  lit  up  mortal  face.  Inly, 
he  compared  it  to  the  clear  shining  of  a  lamp  through 
an  alabaster  vase. 

Beth  went  on: 

"Now,  you  and  I  will  go  up-stairs  and  get  ready 
for  supper.  You  are  overexcited  and  out  of  breath. 
And  I  should  like  to  freshen  myself  a  little  after 
the  bustling  day.  I  am  glad  we  do  not  have  mis- 
sionary meetings  every  week.  But  this  was  very 
interesting." 

Platitudes  borrowed  charm  from  her  rendition 
of  them.  Nothing  that  had  to  do  with  the  welfare 
of  others  was  trite  to  her.  Setting  aside  the  ugly 
episode  of  the  Molly  Watkins  scandal,  she  had  found 
in  the  gathering  elements  of  pleasurable  entertain- 
ment. 

Paul  accompanied  the  two  women  up  the  main 
alley  of  the  garden,  parting  with  them  at  the  gate. 
Then  he  went  back  to  the  arbor  and  smoked  the 
pipe  of  meditation  until  the  sun  went  down  and 
the  grass  was  heavy  with  dew.  Instead  of  going 
directly  to  the  house  as  he  bethought  himself  that 
it  was  nearly  supper-tune,  he  took  the  path  lead- 
ing to  the  office.  The  door  was  fast,  and  all  was 
still  within.  He  listened  for  a  minute  and  then 
knocked. 

"Who's  there?"  said  a  weak  voice. 


128       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

"It  is  I,  my  dear  fellow.  I  want  a  word  with 
you,"  was  the  cheery  response. 

There  was  a  perceptible  pause  in  the  muffled 
movements  in  the  room  before  a  hand  was  laid  upon 
the  lock;  the  key  turned  and  the  door  opened. 

"Feeling  a  little  done  up  by  the  ride  in  the  sun?" 
said  Paul,  in  affirmation  rather  than  inquiry.  "My 
own  head  has  not  been  quite  steady  since  I  got  back. 
We  old  fellows  can't  take  the  liberties  with  ourselves 
that  were  safe  twenty  years  ago.  How  close  it  is 
in  here !  It  was  all  right  to  lie  down,  but  you  should 
have  left  the  door  open.  And,  man  alive!  your 
blinds  are  tight  shut,  too!  No  wonder  you  feel 
'stewed'!" 

He  threw  the  shutters  of  both  windows  wide  with 
a  bang,  and  held  out  a  hand  to  the  man  who  stood 
stock-still  and  dumb  near  the  door. 

"Now,  come  into  the  blessed  outer  air!" 

He  half-led,  half-supported  his  friend  to  the  big 
rocker  beside  the  door-step  and  pushed  him  into 
it. 

"Now,  Rice!" — with  an  utter  change  of  tone  and 
manner — "we'll  have  this  out  like  two  men.  We 
are  not  gossiping  old  women.  Helen  has  told  me  of 
her  talk  with  you  this  evening.  We  won't  waste 
words  before  taking  up  cleaner  topics.  I  doubt  if 
there  is  one  syllable  of  truth  in  the  report  made  by 
Mrs.  Harrison  of  her  call  to  the  poorhouse.  The 
story  doesn't  hang  together,  to  my  way  of  thinking. 
And  Beth  is  of  the  same  opinion. 

"Naturally,  the  thought  of  the  possibility  of  the 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       129 

occurrence  knocked  you  over.  And,  true  or  false, 
it  has  set  you  to  thinking  of  things  we  agreed  long 
ago  were  best  forgotten  for  all  time.  Don't  borrow 
trouble  upon  compound  interest.  It  doesn't  pay, 
old  man!  Supper  will  be  ready  in  ten  minutes. 
A  cup  of  strong  coffee  will  clear  your  brain.  Go 
back  to  your  room  and  dip  your  head  into  cold 
water — at  the  same  time  plunge  memory  into  Lethe, 
and  come  out,  made  over!" 

He  knew  by  experience  that  heroic  treatment 
acted  well  with  the  battered  wreck  of  manhood. 
Knew,  too,  how  gallantly  the  wreck  sat  the  water 
when  once  more  afloat. 

At  the  sound  of  the  supper-bell,  the  two  walked 
leisurely  toward  the  house.  In  rounding  the  corner 
that  would  bring  them  in  sight  of  the  occupants  of 
the  side-porch,  Paul  laid  his  hand  upon  the  other's 
shoulder: 

"Remember!  the  mater  knows  nothing,  and  is 
to  know  nothing  until  we  have  learned  more." 

The  little  minister  did  credit  to  his  tutor  and 
to  his  own  powers  of  self-control,  bearing  his  part 
in  the  table-talk  and  rallying  so  far  from  the  effects 
of  the  ride  under  a  summer  sun  as  to  introduce  a 
novel  and  lively  subject  when  the  second  cup  of 
Madam's  inimitable  coffee  had  done  its  work: 

"I  got  a  letter  at  the  post-office  to-day  that  may 
interest  some  of  you,"  he  remarked,  drawing  it 
from  his  pocket.  "I  am  sure  that  Helen  will  like  to 
hear  it" — smiling  affectionately  at  the  girl  whose 
chastened  liveliness  reminded  the  two  who  compre- 


130       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

hended  the  cause,  of  the  calm  of  a  sunset  succeeding 
a  thunder-shower.  "Mr.  Ruffin  writes  that  the 
readers  of  The  Farmer's  Register  want  to  know  more 
of  the  Dorking  breed  of  fowls.  He  says  very  pleasant 
things  of  what  I  have  written  of  them.  He  would 
like  to  have  another  article,  giving  particulars  of 
their  habits  and  the  English  ways  of  managing  them. 
And  " — the  white  face  coloring  faintly  and  his  ac- 
cent deprecating — "he  would  be  glad  to  get  a  pic- 
ture of  the  hen-house  I  had  built  for  them — and— 
and  a  sketch  of  the  rooster,  the  hen,  and  the  brood 
I  wrote  of." 

The  clapping  of  Helen's  hands  and  her  gleeful 
cry  drowned  the  chorus  of  approval  led  by  Madam. 

"  Oh !  Oh!  OH  !  wouldn't  that  be  splendid !  You 
will  do  it — won't  you,  Mr.  Rice  ?  You  draw  so  beau- 
tifully that  you  can  make  just  the  loveliest  picture 
that  has  ever  gone  into  the  paper!  I  think  I  can 
see  it  now — and  under  it  in  big  letters — 'Original 
design  by  Rev.  Mahlon  Rice,  A.B.  and  A.M.  and  that 
ought  to  be  D.D:  Won't  aU  of  us  High  Hillers  feel 
distinguished  ?  " 

"If  we  might  have  on  the  next  page  a  sketch  of 
Mr.  Dorking,  Mrs.  Dorking,  and  all  the  little  Dork- 
ings done  by  our  promising  young  artist,  Miss  Helen 
Carrington,"  responded  Mr.  Rice  gayly.  "Seri- 
ously, my  child,  you  could  do  it — and  well!  No- 
body who  has  seen  your  clever  work  in  pencil  and 
crayon  could  doubt  your  ability.  All  your  family 
will  back  me  up  in  what  I  say.  Your  grandmother 
and  father  were  saying  only  yesterday  that  your 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       131 

talent  for  drawing  should  be  further  cultivated  and 
the  instruction  from  which  you  profited  so  com- 
mendably  in  Philadelphia  must  not  be  thrown  away. 
I  recollected  their  talk  when  I  read  Mr.  Ruffin's 
letter." 

Here  was  a  diversion  indeed!  Before  bedtime 
the  preliminaries  of  the  joint  undertaking  were  dis- 
cussed and  agreed  upon.  The  work  was  to  be  begun 
on  the  morrow,  and  the  results  were  to  be  submitted 
to  a  board  of  judges,  composed  of  the  three  other 
members  of  the  domestic  group.  It  was  not  a  pre- 
sumptuous venture.  Mahlon  Rice  had  worked  in 
an  architect's  office  for  two  years  after  leaving  col- 
lege, with  an  eye  to  taking  up  architectural  design- 
ing as  his  profession.  He  had  decided  skill  with 
the  pencil  and  delighted  in  exercising  it.  Helen's 
talent  for  sketching  was  an  inheritance  from  her 
accomplished  mother,  and  had  been  fostered  by 
tuition  under  a  noted  artist  who  had  classes  in  her 
Philadelphia  seminary. 

She  confided  to  Beth  after  they  had  at  last  con- 
sented to  postpone  further  talk  upon  the  all-ab- 
sorbing theme  until  the  morning,  that  she  had  "al- 
ways cherished  an  ambition  to  be  distinguished  hi 
some  way." 

"I  dreamed  once  that  I  might  become  an  author. 
Or  a  musician.  But  at  heart  I  longed  to  make  visi- 
ble creations  with  my  fingers!  I  see  pictures  when 
my  eyes  are  shut,  and  I  never  look  at  a  fine  land- 
scape without  wishing  I  could  reproduce  it  upon 
paper.  I  love !  love !  love  to  draw !  And  to  have  one 


132       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

of  my  pictures  engraved !  I  shall  not  sleep  a  wink 
for  thinking  of  it!  That  is  something  to  get  up  for 
in  the  morning!  Half  of  the  time  I  lie  still  upon 
awaking  and  wonder  if  there  is  anything  in  the  world 
worth  the  trouble  of  getting  out  of  bed  and  dressing. 
Without  some  fixed  purpose  this  old  life  of  ours  is 
such  a  dreary,  monotonous  grind!" 

"It  is  not  kind  to  remind  you  of  what  you  said 
less  than  two  months  ago  when  you  expressed  just 
the  opposite  feelings  or  opinions,"  smiled  Beth. 
"Or  I  might  quote  something  very  pretty  and  poet- 
ical about  the  joy  of  being  alive!  But  that  was  in 
the  morning  when  you  and  the  world  were  young 
and  new.  This  is  too  late  at  night  for  sober  people 
like  us  to  be  awake  and  up,  and  you  have  had  a 
very  trying  day.  Give  life  another  chance.  Put 
off  sentencing  it  until  to-morrow." 

In  five  minutes  after  her  head  touched  the  pillow 
Helen  was  fast  asleep.  Beth  lay  awake,  perfectly 
still,  without  word  or  sigh,  until  midnight,  awakening 
again  when  the  east  window  toward  which  she  was 
gazing  showed  a  sky  barred  with  pink.  Every  bird 
in  the  grove  was  aroused  and  set  to  singing  by  the 
whistle  of  the  catbird  that  was  raising  a  brood  in 
the  acacias  shading  the  office.  Beth  wondered  if 
the  occupant  were  awake  to  hear  it.  Had  he  banished 
memories  long  enough  to  snatch  a  few  hours  of  rest- 
ful oblivion  ?  Then,  with  the  unaccountable  procliv- 
ity of  the  grotesque  to  force  itself  upon  the  saddest 
and  most  sacred  musings,  there  drifted  to  her  an 
incident  in  a  story  she  had  read  last  Sunday.  One 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HELL       133 

of  the  charming  "Franconia  Tales" — that  delighted 
our  foremothers  and  dropped  into  their  children's 
minds  seeds  that  were  to  spring  up  unto  everlasting 
life — told  of  a  woman,  widowed  and  poor,  who 
lived  with  her  only  son  in  a  small  farmhouse  in  the 
shadow  of  "Old  Hoaryhead,"  the  mountain  that 
gave  name  to  the  book.  They  had  had  hopes  they 
believed  were  well  grounded  of  removing  to  a  bet- 
ter home  under  changed  circumstances  and  built 
numerous  plans  for  the  life  they  should  lead  there. 
Like  the  rush  of  an  avalanche  from  the  mountain- 
side fell  news  that  their  dreams  were  only  dreams, 
and  the  crushing  consciousness  of  the  folly  and  hope- 
lessness of  it  all.  For  two  days  gloom  reigned  un- 
broken in  the  little  home  and  the  widow  lost  faith 
in  God  as  in  man.  On  the  third  evening  she  aroused 
suddenly  to  the  perception  of  the  wickedness  of 
unfaith  and  the  wrong  to  her  boy  done  by  her  de- 
spondency. 

"Can't  we  think  of  something  that  will  take  our 
minds  off  our  trouble  and  make  us  feel  like  work 
again?"  she  said. 

"Gilbert"  was  ready  with  an  answer:  "We  might 
make  some  maple-sugar  candy!" 

The  result  of  the  homely  experiment  proved  the 
boy's  shrewd  common  sense. 

Beth  laughed  low  to  herself  in  thinking  of  the 
Dorking  portraits: 

"A  revised  version  of  the  maple-sugar  candy." 

Amusement  was  banished  by  the  next  thought. 
Perhaps,  after  all,  the  unlikely  rumor  circulated 


134       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

by  Mrs.  Harrison  might  be  true.  What  would  be 
the  effect  of  the  revelation  upon  the  man  who  once 
loved  the  lost  creature?  Her  name  still  had  power 
to  move  him  out  of  his  habitual  calmness.  Would 
the  spell  of  homely  magic  avail  against  the  cruel 
force  of  mean  and  sordid  and  debasing  fact?  Mary 
Watkins  ("Molly"  to  a  host  of  friends)  had  been 
the  dashing  belle  of  the  region.  Her  fall  was  an 
abiding  horror  and  shame  in  the  history  of  the  last 
twelve  years.  Tales  of  her  pranks,  her  conquests, 
her  sayings  were  still  retailed  with  mingled  pride 
and  regret.  Such  an  ignoble  end  of  her  career  was 
incredibly  repulsive.  The  thought  was  not  to  be 
harbored  for  an  instant. 

Putting  misgivings  and  uncomfortable  imagina- 
tions aside  with  her  wonted  quiet  determination, 
she  would  not  allow  herself  to  dwell  upon  the  pos- 
sible result  of  Paul's  morning  ride.  Madam  Car- 
rington  and  herself  were  in  his  confidence.  Nobody 
else  suspected  any  mystery  in  the  excursion.  He 
often  spent  half  the  day  in  the  saddle,  and  business 
errands  were  numerous. 

Before  he  mounted,  he,  his  mother,  and  Beth 
went  down  to  what  Helen  had  dubbed  "the  Dorking 
villa,"  to  see  the  beginning  of  the  "study"  of  build- 
ing and  inmates.  It  was  a  fine  fresh  morning  and 
the  "villa"  yard,  enclosed  by  a  neat  picket  fence 
over  which  convolvulus  and  honeysuckle  were  riot- 
ing, was  merry  with  crow  and  cackle  chirpings. 
Each  artist,  drawing-board  in  hand,  was  intent 
upon  getting  the  right  lights,  and  in  Helen's  case 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       135 

the  most  effective  poses  of  "subjects."  She  was 
perched  upon  a  high  stool  in  the  open  gate,  Mrs. 
Dorking  and  her  brood — attracted  into  the  centre 
of  the  enclosure  by  an  unusually  lavish  morning 
meal — were  grouping  themselves  satisfactorily. 

"As  if  they  knew  what  I  expect  of  them!"  whis- 
pered the  enchanted  limner,  brandishing  her  crayon 
warningly.  "Don't  disturb  them !  When  you  come 
back  you  shall  see — well,  what  you  shall  see!" 

She  was  established  at  a  table  in  the  shadiest, 
quietest  end  of  the  side-porch  when  her  father 
mounted  the  steps  on  his  return.  The  table  was 
strewed  with  sketches  by  the  help  of  which,  as  she 
had  informed  her  grandmother  and  Beth,  who  were 
at  work  in  their  accustomed  corner,  she  "hoped 
to  make  a  composition  that  would  suit  her  and  send 
everybody  else  into  raptures  of  admiration." 

"Don't  come  a  step  nearer!"  she  cried,  shaking 
her  crayon  threateningly  at  her  father.  "Nobody 
is  to  see  it  until  it  is  finished !  It  is  to  be  my  chef- 
d'oeuvre  and  make  my  reputation!" 

"All  right!"  assented  Paul.  "And  not  to  inter- 
fere with  the  concentration  of  all  your  faculties 
upon  the  masterpiece,  I  shall  take  your  grandmother 
out  of  hearing  for  a  little  business  talk.  Will  you 
come,  too,  Beth?  As  soon  as  I  saw  the  artist  I  no- 
ticed the  '  eyes  in  wild  frenzy  rolling.'  We  will  leave 
them  to  roll  undisturbed." 

Madam  Carrington  exclaimed  at  the  serious  face 
turned  to  her  as  the  trio  entered  the  chamber:  "It 
was  true  then?  Are  you  perfectly  certain?" 


136       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

He  held  back  nothing.  The  picture  that  had 
obsessed  his  fancy  all  the  way  home,  he  unfolded 
to  them.  Rashe  had  painted  it  forcefully  and  the 
listener's  imagination  supplied  all  that  was  missing. 

When  Paul  ceased  speaking  a  stillness  that  might 
be  felt  filled  the  great  room  for  a  long  tense  minute. 
Beth  sat  with  averted  face,  her  hands  locked  in  her 
lap,  painful  crimson  dyeing  cheeks  and  forehead. 
Paul  had  not  sat  down  while  he  talked  and  now 
stood  by  the  window,  staring  into  the  distance. 

At  length  Madam  Carrington  spoke,  her  voice 
steady,  her  eyes  stern: 

"We  have  learned  the  truth,  and  nothing  could 
be  worse.  Investigation  was  a  duty  we  owed  to 
our  old  friends,  the  father  and  mother  of  the  wretched 
woman.  We  can  do  nothing  more.  She  would  not 
accept  anything  from  us,  if  what  the  overseer  re- 
ports of  her  tone  and  conduct  be  true.  She  has 
chosen  her  mode  of  life,  and  has  no  disposition  to 
change  it.  There  let  the  very  disagreeable  matter 
rest." 

"You  do  not  think  then,"  Beth  ventured,  timidly, 
"that  it  might  be  well  for  you  to  see  her?  She  was 
fond  of  you  when  she  was  a  little  girl.  I  recollect 
how  pretty  and  bright  and  engaging  she  was.  I 
was  always  delighted  when  she  came  to  see  us." 

Madam  Carrington's  dressmaker  was  fond  of 
saying  that  that  lady's  "back  was  as  flat  as  a  girl's." 
She  sat  two  inches  taller  now  and  as  straight  as  a 
young  pine. 

"Go  to  see  her,  my  child!    A  woman  steeped  to 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       137 

the  lips  in  iniquity,  and  glorying  in  her  shame !  Who 
deliberately  selects  as  a  home  for  her  declining  years 
a  foul  den  like  the  county  poorhouse !  From  what 
I  hear  of  the  inmates  and  their  manners  and  morals, 
she  seems  to  be  in  congenial  society.  It  is  a  place 
no  decent  woman  can  visit  and  retain  her  self- 
respect.  I  am  astonished  that  Maria  Harrison 
demeaned  herself  by  calling  there,  even" — sardon- 
ically— "for  the  gratification  of  worse- than-idle  curi- 
osity." 

"But" — in  a  desperate  attempt  to  soften  the  harsh 
decree — "things  being  what  they  are,  and  with  her 
antecedents,  where  else  could  she  go  ?  Don't  be  dis- 
pleased with  me,  dear  aunt!  But  what  Paul  has 
told  us  makes  my  heart  ache.  I  wish  there  were 
some  way  of  saving  her!" 

Rhadamantha  was  never  harsh  with  her  adopted 
daughter.  She  was  conscientiously  firm  now. 

"Child!  when  you  have  seen  as  much  of  human 
nature  as  I  have,  you  will  comprehend  that  the 
most  hopeless  of  sinners  is  a  thoroughly  depraved 
woman.  There  is  more  hope  of  the  drunkard  and 
murderer  than  of  her.  If  the  daughter  of  my  old 
friend  (we  were  schoolmates)  were  ill  or  starving, 
or  in  any  other  kind  of  physical  suffering,  I  would 
do  all  in  my  power  to  help  her.  As  it  is,  the  cause 
of  morality  and  religion  requires  that  I  should  keep 
away  from  her,  and  have  it  distinctly  understood 
why  I  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  her.  Before 
we  quit  the  subject  let  me  remind  you  both,  that 
Helen  must  hear  none  of  the  particulars  her  father 


138       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

has  told  us.  They  are  not  fit  for  a  girl  of  her  age 
to  think  and  talk  of.  It  should  be  enough  for  her 
to  know  that  the  woman  in  the  poorhouse  is — Mary 
Watkins;  that  she  is  content  to  remain  there  and 
does  not  care  to  meet  her  former  acquaintances. 
Do  not  feed  her  overlively  imagination  with  notions 
of  the  repentant  Magdalene  and  all  that  stuff. 

"Now,  children!  a  more  important  point  is  how 
the  revolting  facts  are  to  be  told  to  Mr.  Rice.  Yet 
one  might  suppose  that  the  ugly  truth  would  cure 
any  fondness  he  may  have  had  for  the  abandoned 
creature  years  ago!" 

"Unless  you  object,  I  will  take  the  painful  task 
upon  myself."  Paul  spoke  quietly  but  decidedly. 
Beth  knew  that  the  question  was  settled.  The  per- 
verse sense  of  humor  which  was  at  once  her  ally 
and  tormentor  in  crucial  moments  thrust  upon 
memory  the  speecjh  of  the  rude-spoken  planter  re- 
ported to  her  by  a  tactless  gossip: 

"There  is  no  etcetera  about  him!" 

It  was  not  a  surprise  when  Madam  replied  gravely: 

"Manage  it  as  you  like,  my  son.  We  shall  not 
interfere  and  there  will  be  no  questions  asked." 


CHAPTER  XI 

ON  the  second  Sunday  in  July  Mr.  Winston  gave 
out  two  special  notices  from  the  Mount  Hor  pulpit: 

(1)  "There  will  be  plantation  preaching  at  High 
Hill  at  half  past  three  o'clock  to-day.     A  cordial 
invitation  is  extended  to  all  residents  of  the  neigh- 
borhood to  attend." 

(2)  "A  called  meeting  of  the  Ladies'  Missionary 
Society  will  be  held  at  The  Glebe  on  Wednesday 
next  at  four  o'clock,  by  order  of  the  president." 

"Plantation  preaching"  was  a  religious  function 
which  could  be  counted  upon  for  at  least  one  Sun- 
day in  each  summer  month,  sometimes  for  two. 

For  forty  years  Madam  Carrington  had  filled  a 
standing  order  for  two  such  meetings  at  her  home, 
during  the  season.  If,  from  any  untoward  circum- 
stance, the  planter  who  had  registered  next  in  line 
could  not  offer  his  premises,  she  held  herself  ready 
to  act  as  his  substitute.  She  said,  and  truly,  that 
she  esteemed  it  a  privilege  to  do  this. 

The  twentieth-century  reader  has  no  historical 
data  that  will  fit  him  to  estimate  correctly  the  sys- 
tematic and  conscientious  care  bestowed  by  the 
Virginian  slaveholder  upon  the  religious  education 
of  his  servants.  Churchgoing  was  not  only  en- 
couraged, but  insisted  upon  when  opportunity  of- 
fered, and  masters  and  mistresses  submitted  cheer- 

139 


140       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

fully  to  personal  inconveniences  that  employees  of 
both  sexes  might  attend  the  nearest  place  of  public 
worship. 

All  this  was  secondary  in  importance  to  the  relig- 
ious instruction  given  to  young  and  old  upon  plan- 
tations presided  over  by  Christian  owners.  Bible 
classes  were  held,  conducted  usually  by  the  mistress, 
or  one  of  the  daughters  of  the  house;  a  fair  per- 
centage of  colored  boys  and  girls  were  taught  to 
read  and  took  their  part  in  responsive  readings  at 
these  classes.  The  Scriptures  were  read  by  one  of 
the  ladies  of  the  family  to  the  sick  and  aged  on  the 
plantation,  and  instruction  in  the  spiritual  meaning 
of  chapter  and  verse  imparted  freely  and  gladly. 
The  cardinal  truths  of  Christianity  and  the  work- 
ing rules  of  Christian  faith  and  practice  were  as 
familiarly  known  and  spoken  of  by  the  colored  pop- 
ulation as  by  their  instructors.  Madam  Carrington 
freely  confessed  to  her  chaplain  and  friend,  Mr. 
Rice,  that  she  had  learned  lessons  of  as  rich  religious 
experience  from  her  elderly  servants  (whom  they 
never  spoke  of  as  "slaves")  as  from  licensed  clergy- 
men or  from  saintly  associates  of  her  own  rank. 

The  High  Hill  plantation  had  a  State-wide  repu- 
tation for  excellent  management,  efficiency,  and  con- 
sequent prosperity.  Its  praise  was  in  all  the  churches 
for  the  parental  care  exercised  by  the  proprietors 
over  the  moral,  mental,  and  spiritual  welfare  of  their 
dependents.  Under  the  sway  of  the  present  mistress, 
it  had  gained,  not  lost,  in  all  these  respects.  She 
was  strict,  but  never  hard,  much  less  unjust.  The 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       141 

dullest  of  her  serfs  comprehended  that  she  held 
herself  responsible  to  a  Master  whom  she  served, 
night  and  day,  with  all  her  heart  and  soul.  The 
pious  souls  to  whom  she  ministered  in  her  round 
of  duty  felt  that  she  recognized  a  bond  of  union 
with  them  mightier  than  any  earthly  relation  could 
cement. 

The  Sunday  that  brought  preacher  and  congrega- 
tion to  her  home  was  a  "high"  and,  in  the  true  sense 
of  the  word,  a  "holy  day." 

On  this  second  Sunday  in  the  month  as  "Ung* 
Cyrus,"  the  head  man,  said  to  his  mistress — in  an- 
nouncing that  "all  things  were  now  ready  for  the 
meetin'" — "A'peared-like  it  had  been  made  a-pur- 
pose." 

"I  thanked  the  Lord  with  all  my  might  las'  night 
when  the  thunder-storm  wuk  me  up,  for,  sez  I,  dis 
will  suttuily  lay  de  dus'  an'  freshin  de  a'r  for  to- 
morrer." 

Madam  had  come  out  upon  the  front  porch  at 
his  request  and  surveyed  the  scene  with  devout 
complacency. 

The  tulip-poplars  shading  the  spacious  front 
yard  were  perhaps  a  century  old,  and  had  been  care- 
fully tended  from  saplinghood.  The  brown  boles 
shot  heavenward  without  a  curve  for  thirty  and 
forty  feet  to  support  superb  crowns  of  foliage.  The 
turf  beneath  was  green  velvet  and  brocaded  with 
gold  thread  where  the  sunbeams  wove  a  pattern 
upon  it.  Rows  of  benches  were  ranged  in  the  "con- 
tiguity of  shade"  cast  from  the  house  to  the  iron 


142       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 


entrance-gate.  One  wing  of  this  bore  in  a  scroll 
"P,"  the  other  a  "C,"  as  big  and  rusty.  The  first 
American  Paul  Carrington  had  set  up  the  gate. 

The  shrubbery  was  in  freshest  trim;  yellow  jas- 
mine mingled  spicy  breaths  with  the  milder  fra- 
grance of  honeysuckle  and  day-lilies.  The  porches 
in  front  and  at  the  side  were  furnished  with  chairs 
for  pale-faced  worshippers. 

"We  have  indeed  reason  to  be  thankful,  Cyrus!" 
said  the  mistress.  "The  rain  was  needed,  and  the 
weather  could  not  be  pleasanter.  You  have  ar- 
ranged everything  out  there  beautifully.  How 
many  have  you  provided  seats  for?" 

"I  'lowed  room  for  three  hund'ed,  my  mistis. 
Ef  so  be  that  mo'  should  come,  we  ken  fotch  mo' 
benches." 

She  nodded  approval.  "Mr.  Winston  was  kind 
enough  to  tell  me  to-day  what  hymns  he  will  give 
out.  Miss  Helen  handed  the  list  to  Myra." 

"Yes,  mistis.  She  have  tole  de  choir  what  they 
are  to  sing.  'Scuse  me,  ma'am,  but  do  you  s'pose 
Mrs.  Winston  will  'company  de  reveren'  gentleman 
dis  evenin'  ?  " 

"She  told  me  this  morning  that  we  might  expect 
her." 

"Dey  do  say  she  is  a  mighty  fine  lady,"  pursued 
the  head  man.  "An'  Sis'  Mandy,  she  was  a-tellin' 
hi  de  kitchin  las'  night  how  she  has  done  a  heap 
o'  good  to  dem  po'  despised  heathens  'cross  de  sea." 

Madam  smiled:  "She  is  president  of  our  Ladies' 
Missionary  Society  and  is  doing  much  good  in  awak- 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       143 

ening  our  interest  in  the  heathen  to  whom  Chris- 
tians in  America  ought  to  send  the  Gospel.  There 
is  a  carriage  at  the  far  gate.  See  that  the  men  are 
ready  to  look  after  the  horses  and  that  the  carriages 
are  not  left  in  the  way  of  others  that  come  later." 
The  congregation  in  the  porches  and  out-of-doors 
was  as  large  as  had  been  expected.  Mr.  Winston 
stood  at  the  top  of  the  front  steps,  a  small  stand 
beside  him  on  which  were  Bible,  hymn-book,  and 
a  glass  of  water.  Below,  at  his  right,  sat  the  "choir " 
of  ten  women  and  as  many  men,  each  with  book 
in  hand.  They  were  trained  in  singing  by  Beth 
and  Helen,  voices  and  talent  having  been  intel- 
ligently selected.  It  was  the  pastor's  habit  to  com- 
mit the  musical  service  to  the  larger  part  of  the 
congregation  collected  upon  the  lawn,  and  to  call 
upon  certain  of  the  same  to  lead  in  two  of  the  prayers. 
He  began  the  services  with  a  brief  invocation  and 
read  the  whole  of  the  first  hymn: 

"'All  hail  the  power  of  Jesus'  name, 

Let  angels  prostrate  fall ! 
Bring  forth  the  royal  diadem 
And  crown  Him  Lord  of  all ! ' " 

Beth  had  met  the  singers  by  appointment  in 
"Mammy  Tina's  house"  at  two  o'clock  and  given 
a  running  commentary  upon  the  text  of  each  hymn. 

"It  is  wrong  to  sing  sacred  words  without  know- 
ing what  they  mean,"  was  her  preamble.  "And  we 
enjoy  hymns  much  more  when  we  understand  what 
we  are  singing." 


144       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

They  rendered  the  glorious  old  canticle  with  vigor 
and  feeling,  and  all  joined  in  lustily.  Through  forest 
and  over  hill  and  meadow  for  a  full  mile  around 
rolled  the  cataract  of  jubilant  sound,  and  one  might 
have  believed  that  the  blue  heavens  bowed  to  listen. 

"I  could  not  sing  for  the  tears  that  choked  me," 
Mrs.  Matthew  Harrison  reported  to  a  friend  who 
had  not  been  present  that  afternoon.  "It  was  like 
heaven  let  down  to  earth!" 

We  may  observe,  in  passing,  that  the  incident 
added  a  thrilling  anecdote  to  her  collection. 

The  thirty-fifth  psalm  and  the  last  chapter  of 
Revelations  were  read  and  the  preacher  announced 
his  text: 

" The  Spirit  and  the  bride  say  'Come.'  And  let  him 
that  heareth  say  'Come!'  And  let  him  that  is  athirst 
come.  And  whosoever  will,  let  him  take  of  the  water 
of  life  freely." 

"Just  the  right  subject  for  a  July  day!"  whis- 
pered Helen  to  Amy  Carter,  who  sat  next  to  her. 

The  theme  was  wisely  chosen  and  the  treatment 
was  tactfully  adapted  to  the  audience.  The  speaker 
knew  them  too  well  to  "talk  down  to  them."  He 
was  also  clever  enough  to  enforce  great  truths  by 
illustrations  drawn  from  every-day  life  and  the 
natural  world  and  occupations  familiar  to  them. 
Instead  of  stooping  to  the  intelligence  of  men  of 
low  estate,  he  uplifted  them.  The  gift  is  rare — in 
the  sacred  desk,  and  few  there  be  that  have  it.  This 
man  gathered  many  colored  members  into  the  Pres- 
byterian Church  while  he  held  the  Mount  Hor  pas- 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       145 

torate.  He  would  have  it  that  the  harvest  began 
with  seed  cast  into  soil  made  good  by  the  faithful 
teachings  of  the  High  Hill  household  of  faith.  He 
may  have  been  right. 

"Ung'  Cyrus"  was  called  upon  for  the  concluding 
prayer. 

"And  supplied  the  inevitable  touch  of  grotesque- 
ness!"  moaned  Beth  as  the  afternoon  exercises  were 
talked  over  in  the  domestic  junta  on  the  porch  that 
evening. 

And  Madam  Carrington:  "I  might  have  fore- 
seen that  he  had  something  'notable'  in  mind  when 
he  asked  me  if  Mrs.  Winston  were  coming." 

For  the  head  man  had  prayed  at  length  for  "de 
great  and  notable  man  of  Gawd  set  over  us  in  sper- 
ritual  things,  from  de  rivers  to  de  ends  of  de  yearth. 
May  he  go  hi  an'  come  out  befo'  us  for  many  mo' 
years  to  come  an'  find  parstur  from  de  rivers  to  de 
ends  of  de  yearth. 

"An'  specially  bless  her  whom  Thou  has  given 
him  to  be  a  pardner,  in  dese  low  groun's  of  sin  and 
sorrow  from  de  rivers  to  de  end  of  de  yearth.  May 
dey  live  togedder  like  two  turtel-doves  in  one  nes' 
wid  never  a  jar  between,  from  de  rivers  to  de  end 
of  de  yearth!" 

"Mother!"  pleaded  Paul  when  he  could  articulate 
for  laughing  at  Helen's  vivid  repetition  of  the  flight 
of  oratory.  "Can't  you  speak  plainly  to  Cyrus 
and  make  him  comprehend  that  this  sort  of  thing 
must  not  happen  again?  It  ruined  the  whole 
service!" 


146       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

"For  us,  perhaps,  my  son.  Not  for  those  for 
whom  it  was  held.  We  cannot  run  them  into  our 
mould  without  violence  to  nature.  Cyrus's  siege 
of  the  throne  of  grace  in  behalf  of  the  blessed  woman 
(who  is  sensible  enough  to  take  the  will  for  the  deed) 
did  not  offend  the  taste  of  a  single  person  of  his 
color.  Indeed,  they  thought  it  fine.  You  heard 
how  fervently  they  responded  'Amen!'  I  would 
not  hurt  Cyrus's  feelings  for  the  world.  But  I  will 
have  a  talk  with  his  wife  and  give  her  to  understand 
that  he  must  choose  his  words  more  carefully  in 
future." 

Mr.  Rice  took  up  the  tale: 

"The  incident  reminded  me  of  something  of  the 
same  sort  that  befell  me  years  ago  when  I  was  young 
in  the  ministry.  It  was  my  first  experience  in  plan- 
tation preaching,  and  the  colored  brother  who  closed 
the  meeting  with  prayer,  besought  the  Lord  that 
I  might  soon  cease  from  my  labors  and  that  my 
works  might  follow  me ! 

"Fact !  my  dear  fellow !  Sometimes,  in  my  morbid 
hours,  I  have  thought  that  he  may  not  have  asked 
so  far  amiss  as  I  imagined  then.  I  have  certainly 
ceased  from  one  field  of  labor  and  as  for  my 
works " 

"Hear  him!"  ejaculated  Helen  indignantly.  "If 
you  are  going  to  say  something  disrespectful  of  the 
Dorkings  and  your  works  in  their  behalf,  I  won't 
stay  to  listen!  Good  night,  all!" 

"The  minx  is  wiser  than  her  teachers,"  said 
Madam,  rising  to  follow  her  granddaughter's  lead. 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL        147 

"We  will  listen  to  no  heresies  after  the  peaceful 
Sabbath  we  have  enjoyed.  May  it  be  many  a  year 
before  your  good  works  follow  you  to  heaven,  dear 
Mr.  Rice !  What  would  High  Hill  be  without  you, 
'our  guide,  philosopher,  and  friend'?  Good  night 
and  pleasanter  dreams  than  that  last  remark  of 
yours  is  likely  to  invoke!" 

The  two  men,  left  together,  looked  lovingly  after 
the  retreating  forms: 

"  'And  they  shall  walk  in  white  array!'  "  mur- 
mured the  Little  Minister  feelingly.  "When  we  re- 
flect upon  what  is  left  us,  it  is  rank  blasphemy 
to  complain.  To-day  has  truly  been  a  feast  of  wine 
upon  the  lees — of  wine  well  refined!  How  aptly 
the  gracious  words  come  in  when  our  better  selves 
are  allowed  fair  play!" 

"I  will  walk  over  to  the  office  with  you,  if  you 
don't  mind  ?  "  Paul  spoke  with  seeming  carelessness 
in  rising  to  his  feet. 

The  moon  was  up  when  they  got  to  the  office- 
door  and  Mr.  Rice  brought  out  another  chair. 

"You  have  something  to  say?    Out  with  it!" 

"Nothing  worth  worrying  over.  But  it  has  pes- 
tered me  ever  since  the  notion  got  into  my  head. 
Like  a  strand  of  gossamer  that  catches  on  the  eye- 
lids when  one  is  walking  in  the  woods  and  can't 
be  got  rid  of  for  ever  so  long.  Did  you  happen  to 
see  a  woman  dressed  in  black  with  a  blue  veil  over 
her  face,  who  came  late  into  church  and  sat  near 
the  door  this  morning?" 

"I  did  not.    What  of  her?" 


148       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

"I  was  on  the  other  side  of  the  church,  but  sitting 
against  the  wall,  so  that  by  turning  my  head  slightly 
I  had  a  tolerably  fair  view  of  her.  Something 
vaguely — and  I  may  say,  disagreeably  familiar — 
about  her  impressed  me.  I  caught  myself  glancing 
over  my  shoulder  toward  her  several  times  during 
the  service.  When  the  last  prayer  was  over,  I  looked 
in  that  direction,  but  she  was  not  there.  She  had 
disappeared  during  the  prayer. 

"After  we  got  home  I  questioned  Aleck  who, 
sitting  in  the  servants'  seats  far  back  in  the  church, 
slips  out  the  minute  the  benediction  is  pronounced 
to  get  the  horses  ready.  Yes!  he  had  noticed  the 
lady  and  more  particularly  because  she  walked  very 
fast  away  from  the  church  and  down  the  road  where 
she  jumped  into  a  carryall  that  was  waiting  for  her. 
It  was  drawn  by  two  mules  and  a  man  was  driving 
who — and  here  is  the  odd  part  of  it — Aleck  thinks 
was  the  half-witted  mulatto  who  lives  with  his 
mother  at  the  poorhouse." 

The  other  put  out  a  protesting  hand  as  if  to  ward 
off  a  blow: 

"You  don't  imagine " 

"If  I  do,  dear  boy,  it  is  only  imagination,  and 
as  tenuous  as  vapor.  I  should  probably  never  have 
thought  of  it  again  but  for  Aleck's  notion  about 
the  driver.  You  and  I  know  of  that  mulatto.  He 
is  the  illegitimate  child  of  a  poor  white  woman  who 
lived  in  the  lower  part  of  the  county,  and  was  taken 
into  the  poorhouse  just  before  her  child  was  born. 
He  must  be  eighteen  years  old  by  now — a  strapping 
fellow,  more  than  able  to  earn  his  living  and  his 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       149 

mother's,  if  he  were  not  almost  idiotic.  No  mother 
would  be  willing  to  have  him  on  the  place,  even 
as  a  field-hand.  He  milks  the  cows  and  takes  care 
of  the  mules  and  does  hauling  of  various  kinds  for 
the  poorhouse.  But  I  have  never  seen  him  alone 
on  the  road.  His  mother  gathers  berries  in  summer, 
and  chincapins  and  hickory-nuts  in  the  fall,  and 
persimmons  in  winter,  and  sells  them  in  the  neigh- 
borhood— mostly  to  the  negroes.  When  she  has 
more  stuff  than  she  can  carry  comfortably  she  takes 
Bob  along  to  help  her.  Blankenship  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  himself  to  send  any  other  woman  out 
with  the  fellow." 

Mr.  Rice  interrupted  him: 

"You  say  there  was  something  familiar  in  her 
figure  and  motion!  You  did  not  see  her  face?" 

"I  could  not  have  told  whether  she  were  white 
or  black.  Her  veil  was  thick,  and,  warm  as  the 
weather  is,  she  did  not  lift  it  while  I  was  looking 
at  her.  Aleck  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  as  the  veil 
blew  back.  She  was  almost  running  and  climbed 
into  the  carryall  as  if  afraid  of  being  spoken  to. 

"That  was  another  thing  that  made  me  suspect — 
There  is  no  use  beating  about  the  bush,  Rice!  I 
am  afraid  that  woman  was  Molly  Watkins.  If  so, 
this  sort  of  thing  must  be  stopped!  Common 
decency  requires  it.  I  shall  make  it  my  business 
to  see  Blankenship  and  speak  my  mind.  If  she 
has  no  shame,  we  must  respect  the  name  that  used 
to  be  hers. 

"I  could  not  sleep  until  I  told  you  all  I  know. 
We  are  one  in  opinion  and  in  feeling  in  this  matter." 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  plans  for  what  the  Blankenship's  "boarder" 
styled  to  her  host  and  admirer  "a  pious  spree" 
were  not  carried  out  so  easily  as  she  had  anticipated. 
She  had  won  sharp-eyed  Betsey  to  an  attitude  of 
indulgent  tolerance  of  her  caprices  and  manoeuvres. 
Rashe  was,  for  most  of  the  time,  her  obedient  vassal. 
She  entertained  him  immensely  and  her  adroit  flat- 
teries were  sweet  to  his  coarse  taste.  Compliance 
with  her  whim  (she  called  it  "longing")  to  go  to 
Mount  Hor  on  this  particular  Sunday  involved  a 
departure  from  established  rules  that  was  nearly 
a  breach  of  law  and  order  as  laid  down  by  the  over- 
seer. 

"Sunday,"  as  he  had  expounded  to  the  authori- 
ties from  whom  he  received  this  commission,  and 
to  whom  he  rendered  account  of  his  stewardship — 
"warn't  no  time  for  the  poppers  to  be  traipsin' 
and  stravagin'  'roun'  the  country,  lookin'  for  fun 
and  mischief.  Excep'  on  the  Sundays  when  thar 
happens  to  be  preachin'  in  the  po'house,  I  mean 
to  see  that  mighty  few  visitors  gets  into  the  grounds, 
and  that  every  mother's  daughter  an'  every  man- 
jack  of  the  poppers  stays  at  home.  'Tain't  noways 
agreeable  for  me,  gentlemen,  as  I  needn't  tell  you, 
to  stan'  guard  all  day  long  when  like  any  other  live 
man  I'd  like  to  have  a  little  tech  of  holiday  for  my- 
self. 

150 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       151 

"But  duty  is  duty,  and  I  try  to  do  mine." 

Nobody  controverted  the  decree.  If  he  had  not 
laid  down  the  rule,  it  would  have  been  made  by 
some  member  of  the  board  of  overseers  of  the  poor. 
"Thieving"  and  "pauperism"  were  too  nearly  syn- 
onymous in  the  minds  of  respectable  folk  to  be  lightly 
divorced.  If  the  pauper  population  were  free  to 
rove  the  countryside  on  the  day  of  rest  from  toils 
that  kept  them  out  of  mischief  for  six  days  of  the 
week,  pilfering  and  unlicensed  visits  to  negro  "quar- 
ters" would  become  a  public  menace.  Rashe  com- 
prehended the  situation,  and  was  prepared  to  meet 
it.  His  wages — or  as  he  put  it,  his  salary — had 
been  raised  twice  within  the  last  ten  years.  He 
had  many  of  the  qualities  of  the  born  executive. 
Under  his  sway  the  farm  was  worked  to  the  utmost 
acre,  and  the  garden  yielded  all  the  vegetables  re- 
quired for  the  sustenance  of  the  community  of  fifty 
souls.  The  mules  used  for  field-work  and  hauling 
from  without  were  in  good  condition;  the  hogs  and 
calves  supplied  meat  for  home-consumption,  and 
Mrs.  Blankenship's  prudent  management  of  poultry- 
yard  and  dairy  was  county  talk.  Altogether,  those 
best  qualified  by  position  and  opportunity  to  judge 
the  case,  decided  the  present  overseer  of  the  poor 
to  be  the  man  for  the  place. 

Rashe  made  no  secret  of  his  profound  apprecia- 
tion of  the  fact  in  the  discussion  following  Molly 
Watkins's  petition. 

"Don't  you  see,  Miss  Molly,  that  I  have  a  char- 
acter to  keep  up  ?  It's  as  well  onderstood  'boutcher 


152       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

as  any  one  of  the  Ten  Comman'ments,  that  not  a 
livin'  cretur  goes  outside  them  draw-bars  on  workin' 
days  without  I  giv'  em  leave.  An'  on  a  Sunday 
none  of  'em  gits  that!  I'd  like  to  obleege  you,  as 
I  needn't  tell  you,  an'  seem'  as  how  you've  set  your 
heart  upon  this  'ere  'pious  spree,'  's  you  call  it,  I'd 
be  willin'  to  strain  a  p'int  or  two  to  please  you." 

She  broke  in  coaxingly: 

"But,  my  dear  Mr.  Blankenship,  as  I  understand 
the  case,  you  made  the  rule  and  have  a  perfect  right 
to  break  it  if  you  like.  There's  nobody  superior 
to  you  in  office.  And  I  won't  ask  you  for  this  treat 
again  this  summer.  I'll  keep  my  veil  down  all  the 
time,  and  not  even  my  old  beau,  little  Rice,  will 
recognize  me.  I'll  bet  my  best  pocket-handkerchief — 
the  last  one  left  with  lace  on — against  your  dish- 
cloth, Mrs.  Blankenship" — wheeling  upon  her — 
"that  neither  he  nor  Madam  Carrington  herself, 
nor  your  'meaching,  mealy-mouthed'  old  maid  who 
means  to  marry  Madam's  son,  will  know  me.  And 
think  what  a  story  I'll  have  to  tell  when  I  get 
back!  I  tell  you  what  will  be  a  capital  plan," 
clapping  her  hands  girlishly.  "Your  sister  lives 
just  a  mile  this  side  of  the  church.  I  heard  you  say 
the  other  day  that  you  hadn't  had  a  chance  to  see 
her  for  ever  so  long.  We'll  leave  you  there  and  call 
for  you  when  the  solemn  services  of  the  sanctuary" — 
mouthing  it  grandiloquently — "are  concluded." 

It  was  a  master-stroke.  Within  an  hour  the 
carryall — a  vehicle  that  would  be  called  a  four- 
wheeled  cart,  now — was  brought  around  to  the 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       153 

door  of  the  overseer's  quarters  with  Bob  Logan, 
the  three-quarter-witted  mulatto,  as  charioteer. 

Rashe  had  superintended  the  furnishment  of  the 
interior  with  a  thick  layer  of  clean,  sweet-smelling 
straw  and  a  couple  of  stout  rush-bottomed  chairs. 
The  driver's  seat  was  an  unpainted  board  laid  across 
the  front  of  the  carryall.  His  long  legs  hung  over 
it,  and  his  feet  rested  upon  the  whiffle-tree.  After 
helping  the  fair  passengers  into  the  vehicle  by  lower- 
ing the  hinged  dashboard  at  the  back,  and  guiding 
them  to  their  respective  seats,  the  gallant  host  put 
the  finishing-touch  of  elegance  by  opening  a  big 
green-cotton  umbrella  and  directing  his  Betsey  to 
"hold  it  straight  an'  steady,  an'  be  keerful  not  to 
jab  Bob's  eyes  out.  Ef  you  do,  one  of  you  ladies 
will  have  to  drive  yourselves  home." 

The  carryall  had  rumbled  out  of  the  draw-barred 
outer  entrance  when  Mrs.  Blankenship  was  startled 
by  a  shriek  of  hysterical  laughter  from  the  vetted 
figure  at  her  side. 

"In  the  name  o'  common  sense  what's  took  you 
now?"  she  demanded  in  her  tartest  every-day  tone 
and  manner.  "You  pretty  nigh  skeered  me  to 
death!" 

The  other  continued  to  laugh,  swaying  from  side 
to  side  in  a  paroxysm  of  mirth. 

"Excuse  me,  please!"  she  gasped  out  at  last. 
"But  it  is  all  too  excruciatingly  funny!" 

The  polysyllable  stunned  Betsey  for  an  instant. 
Then  she  rejoined  witheringly:  "I  don't  know  what 
to  make  of  you  sometimes.  If  you're  goin'  inter 


154       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

highstrikes,  maybe  we'd  better  turn  'roun'  and  go 
home!" 

"Dear  Mrs.  Blankenship!  please  forgive  me!  But 
it  is  so  nice  to  be  off  on  this  little  frolic  with 
nobody  but  you,  that  I  am  making  a  fool  of  myself. 
I'll  behave  better  now  I  have  had  my  laugh  out." 

She  kept  her  word  all  the  way  to  the  house  at 
which  her  hostess  alighted  to  stay  with  her  sister 
during  Molly's  absence  in  church.  When  the  vehicle 
returned,  the  sister,  a  slatternly  older  edition  of 
Betsey,  came  out  to  the  carryall  to  stare  at  the  person 
of  whom  Betsey  had  gossiped  incessantly  all  the 
time  spent  with  her  relative.  She  was  not  content 
with  the  partial  scrutiny. 

"Put  up  your  veil — can't  you?"  she  said  im- 
pertinently. "Betsey's  told  me  sech  funny  things 
'bout  you  that  I  want  to  see  you  good." 

The  poorhouse  show-piece  obeyed,  revealing  a 
sallow  complexion,  a  delicate,  sharply  denned  profile, 
faded  dark  eyes  that  might  once  have  been  either 
brown  or  black,  and  thin  lips  straightened  into  a 
caricature  of  a  civil  smile: 

"You  are  welcome  to  a  look  at  what  is  left  of 
me,"  she  said.  "But  if  what  the  parson  told  us 
this  morning  be  true,  you  can  never  see  me  'good.' 
I  am  the  chief  of  sinners." 

The  play  upon  the  misused  adjective  was  thrown 
away  upon  the  listeners,  as  might  have  been  ex- 
pected. Betsey  made  no  allusion  to  it  in  the  ac- 
count rendered  to  her  husband  when  she  got  home: 

"I  declar'  she  looked  right  down  ugly!    Nobody 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       155 

would  never  have  believed  she  was  ever  as  pretty 
you  say  she  was  when  she  was  young.  But  she  spoke 
real  pleasant  to  Susan  Jane,  an'  said  as  how  she 
hoped  she  mought  see  her  agin  some  time." 

"Let  her  alone  for  doin'  an'  sayin'  the  ladylike 
thing!"  was  the  confident  response.  "She's  layin' 
down,  restin'  now,  did  you  say?  She  looked  pretty 
nigh  tuckered  out  when  she  got  out  of  the  carryall. 
I  reckon  she  ain't  so  strong  as  she  tries  to  make  out. 
And  five  mile  to  church  an'  five  mile  back  on  a 
July  day  ain't  no  joke. 

"I'm  on  tenter-hooks  to  hear  what  she'll  have 
to  say  'bout  her  church  spree.  She's  more  fun  'n' 
a  circus  once  she  gits  started!" 

He  hung  upon  the  hooks  until  impatience  de- 
veloped into  bad  humor.  The  boarder  declined 
to  come  down  to  dinner,  pleading  a  severe  head- 
ache. 

Betsey,  ascending  to  the  upper  chamber  to  satisfy 
herself  that  the  headache  was  a  reality,  was  moved 
to  what  stood  with  her  for  feminine  pity  by  the 
haggard  face  and  heavy  eyes. 

"I'm  afeard  she's  goin'  to  be  sick,"  she  admitted 
to  her  husband.  "I'll  run  up  agin  presen'ly  with 
a  cup  of  real  strong  tea,  and  ef  that  don't  bring  her 
'round  it  mought  be  as  well  to  send  Bob  for  the 
doctor.  'Twon't  never  do  fer  her  to  die  on  our 
han's." 

Upon  learning  that  the  doctor  would  be  the 
penalty  of  refusing  to  be  "brought  'round,"  the 
patient  swallowed  the  potion  proffered  by  the  nurse 


156       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

— green  tea,  stewed  to  its  utmost  potency  and  war- 
ranted to  bear  up  an  egg.  Then  she  engaged  faintly 
to  "try  and  sleep  off  the  headache." 

"I  hope  to  be  able  to  thank  you,  by  and  by,  for 
all  your  goodness,"  she  added,  twisting  the  pale 
lips  into  the  conventional  smile. 

What  of  Betsey's  heart  had  withstood  the  fric- 
tion of  ten  years'  oversight  of  the  poorhouse  and 
of  the  overseer  himself  answered  to  the  sight  of 
actual  suffering,  and  the  recognition,  through  it 
all,  of  her  kindly  offices.  She  pinned  a  blanket- 
shawl  over  the  window  to  exclude  the  sunlight,  leav- 
ing a  space  below  by  which  a  few  breaths  of  air 
might  enter. 

She  volunteered  to  "do  all  I  ken  to  keep  them 
nasty  poppers  quiet.  'Tain't  sech  a'  easy  job  as  you 
mought  think  of  a  Sunday  evenin'!" 

While  Rashe  enjoyed  his  nap  in  the  chamber — 
longer  and  more  profound  than  on  week-days  by 
reason  of  a  lighter  load  of  official  care  and  a  heavier 
load  of  dinner — his  helpmeet  made  a  tour  of  the 
premises  in  fulfilment  of  her  humane  purpose. 

A  row  of  native  oaks  had  been  left  to  flourish 
undisturbed  by  the  woodman's  axe  at  the  rear  of 
the  back  yard.  Behind  these  straggled  groups  of 
log  huts  assigned  to  the  colored  paupers.  One  of 
the  overseer's  court-rules  was  that  none  of  these 
should  trespass  upon  the  benches  of  hewn  planks, 
some  of  which  were  made  fast  to  the  trunks  of  the 
trees,  while  most  of  them  were  portable. 

"Ef   they   owned   the  place   they   couldn't   ast 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       157 

nothin'  nicer  nor  what  has  been  pervided  for  'em 
on  a  hot  evenin',  after  the  day's  work  is  done,"  was 
an  oft-uttered  boast  of  the  overseer.  "An'  it's 
pretty  as  a  picter  to  see  'em  takin'  it  easy  on  moon- 
shiny  nights.  It  allers  remin's  me  of  a  picter  I 
seen  at  the  theater  in  town  oncet." 

The  turf  had  been  worn  from  the  ground  years 
ago  by  the  tread  of  hobnailed  shoes  and  bare  feet, 
but  Rashe  had  the  hard  earth  swept  every  day, 
and  was  strict  in  demanding  that  his  charges  of  both 
sexes  should  "clear  up  their  own  litter."  There 
was  in  force  also  the  unwritten  law  requiring  the 
inmates  to  don  clean  and  comparatively  whole  clothes 
Sunday. 

The  dinner  was  exceptionally  good  to-day,  and 
it  was  always  the  best  served  in  the  week.  There 
had  been  green  corn  on  the  cob;  new  potatoes  boiled 
in  their  jackets;  cymblings  and  stewed  tomatoes; 
boiled  ham  and  a  mammoth  chicken-pie.  For  des- 
sert there  was  boiled  blackberry  pudding  with  hard 
sauce. 

The  benches  were  all  occupied  as  Mrs.  Blanken- 
ship  strode  along  the  line  and  inculcated  the  duty 
of  "talkin'  low  and  raisin'  no  racket  on  account  of 
Miss  Watkins's  headache."  She  could  not  refrain 
from  subjoining — "she  went  to  church  this  mornin', 
and  't  seems  like  it  didn't  agree  with  her!" 

A  dutiful  titter  ran  through  the  group.  Nancy 
Wilkinson,  the  oldest  resident,  had  a  response  ready: 

"Maybe  't  agreed  with  her  soul,  ef  't  didn't  agree 
with  her  body!" 


158       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

A  wider  grin  upon  toothless  mouths  and  a  louder 
cackle  of  cracked  voices  proved  the  hit  neat  and 
well-aimed.  A  low  order  of  wit  and  the  broadest 
humor  found  currency  in  the  circle  of  outcasts. 
What  else  could  be  expected  by  the  most  obstinate 
of  optimists  if  he  had  taken  account  of  the  gang 
flung  together  by  the  fortune  which  all  there  would 
have  cursed  as  "outrageous"? 

The  women  outnumbered  the  men,  as  was  in- 
evitable in  an  agricultural  community.  There  were 
eight  nominal  widows.  Rashe  registered  them  men- 
tally, and  in  jovial  discourse  with  outsiders,  as  "five 
grass  and  three  turf."  What  was  a  poor  white  to 
do,  when  her  husband  ran  off  to  parts  unknown  after 
drinking  and  gambling  away  every  dollar  that  be- 
longed to  him  or  to  her,  but  take  refuge  in  the  one 
resort  left  open  to  her?  If  she  had  children  too 
young  to  be  bound  out  as  field-hands  or  mechanics, 
they  went  with  her  and  received  the  stamp  of  pau- 
perism, which  could  never  be  effaced  so  long  as  they 
remained  residents  of  their  native  State.  Of  the 
eight  domesticated  for  life  in  the  poorhouse,  three 
brought  their  helpless  and  hapless  offspring  with 
them.  Two  babies  had  been  born  since  they  were 
taken  under  the  parental  care  of  the  county.  The 
"widows-indeed"  from  whom  the  mainstay  of  bread 
and  the  mainstay  of  water  were  taken  by  relentless 
death  were  among  the  most  aged  inmates  of  the 
refuge. 

A  singular  fact,  that  may  or  may  not  have  had 
significance,  was  that  the  women  were  not  content 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       159 

to  remain  idle,  while,  as  Rashe  lamented  wonder- 
ingly,  the  men  had  to  be  driven  to  their  work  "like 
so  many  good-for-nothin'  corn-fieP  niggers." 

"Ef  I  was  a  sure-'nough  overseer,  I  would  lay  a 
cowhide  over  their  backs  to  the  tune  o'  nine-and- 
thirty,  plaguey  quick,  I  can  tell  you !"  he  said,  again 
and  again,  to  the  board  that  laughed  in  his  angry 
face  and  "reckoned  he  could  get  work  out  of  them, 
if  anybody  could." 

He  had  ways  of  his  own  invention  for  doing  this, 
and  the  board  asked  no  officious  questions  so  long 
as  he  abstained  from  "personal  violence."  "If  a 
man  will  not  work,  neither  shall  he  eat,"  was  a  text 
that  had  the  devout  approval  of  our  disciplinarian. 
And  when  to  fasting  was  added  confinement  to 
one's  cabin,  with  the  threat  of  cord  and  handcuffs 
for  the  insubordinate,  it  may  be  readily  imagined  that 
instances  of  continued  recusancy  were  infrequent. 

The  women  did  all  the  work  of  the  house,  includ- 
ing cooking  and  washing.  Yet  nearly  every  one 
had  some  lighter  art  of  her  own  choosing  that  em- 
ployed fingers  and  thoughts  in  her  spare  time. 
Nancy  Wilkinson  knit  socks  for  babies  and  boys, 
and  managed  to  sell  them  to  poor  whites  and  such 
plantation  negroes  as  hankered  after  the  gayly 
colored  foot-gear.  By  a  system  as  cunningly  de- 
vised as  that  which  gained  in  the  Civil  War  of  the 
next  generation  the  name  of  "the  grape-vine  tele- 
graph," customers  contrived  to  make  known  their 
wants  to  the  crone  who  had  not  budged  a  dozen 
steps  from  the  poorhouse  in  fifteen  years. 


160       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

Sukey  Logan,  a  grass-widow,  with  two  white 
children  and  one  mulatto,  the  latter  having  been 
born  since  she  was  taken  into  the  house,  ranged  the 
"old  fields  "  on  summer  afternoons  and  gathered 
great  store  of  partridge  eggs.  The  contents  of  these 
were  "blown  out"  through  a  hole  pierced  in  each 
end  of  the  eggs  and  the  empty  shells  were  strung 
like  so  many  monstrous  pearls  upon  stout  linen 
thread.  White  children  bought  these  barbaric  neck- 
laces eagerly.  Their  elder  sisters  sometimes  painted 
the  shells  in  water-colors  and  utilized  them  as  table 
and  parlor  decorations.  Sukey  likewise  strung  the 
hard  ripe  red  berries  of  the  "fever-bush,"  known 
farther  North  as  "bittersweet,"  into  necklaces  and 
bracelets.  The  conical  nuts  of  the  chincapin  were 
in  high  request,  eaten  raw,  boiled,  or  roasted,  or 
when  under  Sukey's  nimble  fingers  they,  too,  were 
strung  in  long  chains  or  belts.  Worn  with  white 
frocks  they  imparted  a  touch  to  the  attire  of  young 
girls  that  suggested  associations  of  Pocahontas  and 
her  attendant  forest-nymphs. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  for  an  instant  that  the 
fair  purchasers  and  wearers  of  these  ornaments  of 
native  growth  and  workmanship  bought  them  di- 
rectly from  the  maker.  When  not  peddled  by  white 
or  mulatto  children  from  the  poorhouse,  or  obtained 
through  the  "middlemen"  of  plantation  servants, 
they  might  be  had,  but  rarely,  from  Mrs.  Blanken- 
ship's  sister,  who  acted  as  agent  for  those  "dreadful 
old  creatures  she  had  to  see  when  she  visited  Sister 
Betsey." 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       161 

Chancy  Jones  was  the  daughter  of  one  poor  white 
and  the  widow  of  another.  They  had  lived  in  the 
county  but  three  years,  having  come  "up  the  river" 
from  their  old  home  when  the  husband  accepted 
the  place  of  overseer  at  Beau  Mont,  the  home  of  the 
Wirt  Cocke  of  whom  we  have  heard  as  a  problemat- 
ical suitor  of  Beth  Moore.  The  Joneses  had  two 
children  and  the  arrival  of  a  third  was  imminent 
when  the  father  was  drowned  crossing  the  James 
in  a  boat  one  stormy  winter  night.  The  Cockes 
did  all  that  humanity  and  Christian  charity  could 
dictate.  The  costs  of  the  funeral  were  defrayed 
by  the  late  employer,  and  the  family  was  supported 
at  his  expense  until  spring  brought  the  necessity 
of  installing  another  overseer  in  the  house  occupied 
by  the  widow  and  her  three  babies.  Investigation 
revealed  that  she  was  an  orphan  and  that  her  hus- 
band's family  would  not  or  could  not  contribute 
a  dollar  toward  her  maintenance.  It  was  a  case 
of  sheer  necessity  as  the  neighborhood  agreed,  to 
commit  the  helpless  creatures  to  the  keeping  of 
the  county.  The  conviction  was  strengthened  by 
the  discovery  that  the  widow,  who  had  been  ill  with 
inflammatory  rheumatism  all  winter  after  the  birth 
of  her  baby,  would  be  lame  for  life.  Her  children 
were  bright  and  healthy,  and  as  the  two  elder  grew 
in  stature  and  intelligence,  Mrs.  Blankenship  grad- 
ually committed  to  them  the  whole  charge  of  the 
crippled  mother.  When  not  engaged  in  this  duty 
they  ran  wild  over  garden  and  fields  and  grew  like 
cabbages.  The  eldest  was  now  twelve,  the  second 


162       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

ten.  The  baby,  a  boy,  was  seven.  Not  one  of  them 
could  read  or  write. 

When  the  "boarder,"  who  speedily  made  friends 
with  them,  remarked  airily  upon  this  deficiency,  the 
mother  answered: 

"Po'  folks  has  to  do  without  a-many  things  they 
would  like  to  have.  There  ain't  no  A  B  C  books 
'boutcher,  ef  I  had  time  to  learn  the  chil'ren,  and 
that  I  ain't  got!  What  with  makin'  an'  mendin' 
their  clo'es  an'  all  the  sewin'  Mrs.  Blankenship  puts 
upon  me — hemmin'  towels  an'  turnin'  sheets  an' 
darnin'  blankets  an'  bedquilts,  and  what  not — I 
don't  get  a  minnit  to  myself  from  mornin'  'tell 
night." 

Dickens  had  made  the  American  reading  world 
acquainted  with  the  terror  the  English  poor  felt 
for  the  "workus."  Virginians  of  the  better  class — 
and  this  was  largely  in  excess  of  the  illiterate — kept 
pace  with  current  literature,  and  every  homestead 
boasted  a  library  of  standard  classics  that  would 
have  done  honor  to  a  college.  Dickens's  inimitable 
creations  were  read  over  and  over  until  Richard 
Swiveller,  Little  Nell,  and  Quilp  were  actual  living 
personalities  to  every  member  of  the  household. 
That  the  model  county  charity,  run  ably  and  gain- 
fully by  Rashe  and  his  "capable"  spouse,  had  any 
features  in  common  with  the  foreign  workhouse 
never  entered  the  handsomely  furnished  minds  of 
humane  men  and  tender-hearted,  open-handed 
women. 

The  overseer's  wife  took  on  no  airs  of  superior 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       163 

station  or  breeding  this  afternoon,  while  chatting 
in  turn  with  paupers  lounging  in  the  shade  of  the 
spreading  oaks.  She  was  a  trusty  link  joining  them 
to  the  outer  world  and  never  averse  to  a  luncheon 
of  racy  gossip. 

Sukey  Logan,  whose  son  had  acted  as  charioteer 
to  the  churchgoers,  had  a  morsel  ready  when  Betsey 
stopped  for  a  word  with  her.  Bob's  mother — odd 
as  it  may  seem — had  not  lost  caste  with  her  com- 
peers by  reason  of  the  misfortune  that  had  overtaken 
her  within  a  few  months  after  she  and  her  deserted 
children  were  given  shelter  under  the  hospitable 
roof-tree. 

A  French  actress,  famed  and  feted  on  both  sides 
of  the  Atlantic,  had  the  playful  habit  of  introducing 
her  son,  born  out  of  wedlock,  as  "Mon  petit  accident." 
Sukey  Logan  knew  no  language  except  her  own, 
and  very  little  of  that.  She  was,  nevertheless,  in 
full  sympathy  with  the  sentiment  that  inspired  the 
Parisian's  bon  mot.  The  virtuous  matron  of  whom 
Rashe  spoke,  when  he  recollected  her  at  all,  as  "My 
First,"  had  read  the  sinner  lectures,  many  and  tart, 
upon  the  iniquity  of  which  she  had  been  guilty.  The 
other  four  grass-widows  set  the  example  of  over- 
looking the  indiscretion  and  receiving  the  trans- 
gressor by  merciful  degrees  back  into  full  and  regular 
fellowship.  She  lay  back  in  the  rocking-chair  Bob 
had  presented  to  her  last  Christmas,  and  twirled 
a  turkey-tail  fan  while  discoursing  to  an  audience 
that  closed  in  about  her  hungrily  as  the  story  gained 
flavor. 


164       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

"Bob,  he  say  as  how  quite  a  lot  o'  gentlemen 
watched  Miss  Molly  when  she  come  out  o'  church 
to-day.  An'  while  she  was  in  church  too,  for  that 
matter.  You  see,  Bob,  he  stole  up  to  the  winder 
while  the  preachin'  was  a-goin'  on,  and  he  could 
see  the  church  folks  as  plain  as  if  he  was  inside. 
Mr.  Wirt  Cocke  was  a-settin'  right  cross  the  aisle 
from  his  dear  Beth — like  he  does  every  Sunday 
when  he  ken — but  he  had  a  corner  of  his  eye  for 
the  strange  lady  a-settin'  so  'umble-like  by  the  do'. 
An'  Mr.  Abe  Saunders  what's  ole  enough  to  know 
how  to  behave  in  church — he  was  a-twistin'  'roun'  all 
the  time  like  he  was  settin'  on  a  hot  shovel — to  ketch 
a  look  at  her.  Bob  say  the  only  men  thar  who  looked 
like  they  didn't  notice  her  was  Mr.  Rice  and  Mr. 
Carrington.  That  p'intedly  did  make  me  laugh! 
Folks  do  say  as  how  Mr.  Rice  was  mighty  far  gone 
in  love  with  her  befo'  she  run  away.  Sech  a  little 
snip  of  a  man,  too!  She  could  'a'  put  him  in  her 
pocket!  For  all  that,  I  happen  to  know  that  he 
was  dead  in  love  with  her!" 

Mrs.  Blankenship  spoke  as  one  having  authority 
that  it  was  tune  to  use. 

"Yes!  Dead  in  love  with  her!  She  mought  'a' 
been  the  Rev.  Mrs.  Rice  this  blessed  minnit  ef  she 
had  'a'  said  'Yes'  instid  of  'No'!" 

An  awed  silence  fell  upon  the  group.  The  con- 
trast indicated  to  the  imagination  of  the  dullest 
there  took  away  the  power  of  ready  comment  upon 
the  amazing  intelligence.  When  Nancy  Wilkinson 
found  tongue,  her  voice  quavered  and  broke: 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       165 

"An'  to  think  I  ken  recollec'  him  a-comin'  here 
to  preach  when  he  was  young  an'  han'some,  an'  as 
you  mought  say,  the  idle  of  the  church  an'  of  every- 
body else!" 

She  lifted  a  corner  of  her  checked  apron  to  bleared 
eyes  that  were  wet. 

The  overseer's  wife  capped  the  object-lesson  with 
a  practical  homily: 

"That  makes  me  say  what  I  do  say!  And  that 
is,  that  none  of  us  ken  tell  what  we  may  be  comin' 
to  befo'  we  die.  I  mind  I  heerd  a  circuit-rider  by 
the  name  of  Tompkins  say  oncet  (and  he  suttinly  was 
a  splendid  preacher!) —  He  said:  'We  are  up,  my 
friends,  to-day  with  the  hopper-grass,  and  down  to- 
morrow with  the  sparrow-grass!'  I  mind  myself 
of  them  solemn  words  whenever  I  see  a  hopper- 
grass,  or  stick  a  knife  into  a  stalk  o'  sparrer-grass. 
It's  up  to-day  an'  down  to-morrer  with  every  single 
one  of  us!" 

The  Widow  Wilkinson  had  regained  composure: 

"Do  you  reckon  he's  ever  heerd  that  she  is 
HERE?"  The  emphasis  upon  the  last  word  can- 
not be  expressed  by  capitals. 

"I  don't  see  why  not!  Mr.  Paul  Carrington,  he 
come  over  here  nigh  upon  a  month  ago,  on  a-pur- 
pose  to  fin'  out  ef  'twas  her  that  was  said  to  be  in 
the  county  po 'house,  an'  he  got  the  truth  straight  I 
Mr.  Rice,  he  lives  at  High  Hill,  right  in  the  house 
with  the  Carringtons.  'Tain't  noways  likely  as 
Paul  kep'  it  to  himself.  No!  they've  shook  her  off 
for  good  an'  all,  now  that  she's  under  foot.  That's 


i66       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

been  the  way  with  rich  and  wealthy  and  religious 
folks  from  the  tune  the  world  was  made  'till  now. 
Thar's  no  rubbin'  that  out  I" 

The  subject  of  gossip  and  homily  did  not  appear 
below-stairs  until  the  sun  was  setting.  The  Blan- 
kenships  were  sitting  in  the  narrow  porch  fronting 
the  crimson-and-orange  west  when  she  glided  out 
of  the  door. 

"Fine's  a  fiddle!"  ejaculated  Rashe,  jumping  up 
with  outstretched  hand.  "I'll  bet  on  you  every 
time!  Take  this  cheer!"  indicating  the  roomy 
rocker  swinging  noisily  upon  the  uneven  boards 
from  the  suddenness  of  his  abdication. 

"Thank  you!  but  not  until  I  have  paid  my  debt 
of  honor.  I  lost  my  bet  to-day.  Mahlon  recognized 
me  although,  like  the  little  game  rooster  he  is,  he 
did  not  show  it." 

She  passed  over  to  the  delighted  hostess  a  filmy 
construction  of  cambric  and  lace  edging,  and  sink- 
ing into  the  rocker  with  languid  grace  that  Rashe 
said  to  himself  was  "for  all  the  world  like  a  queen!" 
began  the  recital  for  which  he  had  waited  long: 

"He  saw  me  come  in.  I  hoped  to  get  there  be- 
fore him.  I  forgot  that  he  is  a  High  Hiller  now, 
and  that  Madam  is  always  one  of  the  very  first  on 
guard  upon  the  walls  of  Zion.  He  was  sitting  next 
to  the  aisle  about  the  fourth  seat  from  the  west 
door,  and  looked  at  me,  as  I  slipped  into  a  seat  op- 
posite to  the  benches  railed  off  for  'our  colored 
brethren.' 

"I  felt  safer  near  them  than  in  a  higher  place 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       167 

in  the  synagogue.  He  turned  first  as  red  as  a  beet 
and  then  as  white  as  a  silver-skin  onion,  then  squared 
himself  about  and  did  not  turn  his  head  again  during 
the  service.  You  may  be  sure  I  watched  him  as  a 
cat  watches  a  little  white  mouse  that  has  got  away 
from  her  once.  I  had  half  a  mind,  several  times,  to 
wait  and  face  him — veil  up — when  he  came  out. 
Then  I  thought  it  might  make  a  disturbance  and 
I  didn't  want  to  do  anything  that  might  be  an  an- 
noyance to  this  dear  lady" — nodding  at  Betsey,  who 
was  examining  her  new  handkerchief  delightedly 
— "or  to  you,  Mr.  Blankenship.  I  am  afraid  I  have 
a  weakness  for  ^cenes.  I  amused  myself  all  sermon- 
time  with  fancies  of  what  would  happen  if,  as  soon 
as  the  parson  said  'Amen!'  I  were  to  climb  upon 
the  bench  and  shout :  '  Oh,  yes !  Oh,  yes !  all  of  you 
look  and  listen!  I  am  Molly  Watkins,  formerly 
of  Clover  Crest,  Opecancanough  County,  now  the 
honored  guest  of  Mr.  Horatio  Gates  Blankenship, 
overseer  of  the  poor.  I  was  a  stranger  and  he  took 
me  in;  hungry,  and  he  fed  me.  Which  is  more  than 
any  of  you  scribes,  pharisees,  and  hypocrites  would 
have  done!'  What  do  you  think  would  have  hap- 
pened if  I  had?" 

Rashe  was  sitting  upon  the  top  step  and  now 
lost  his  balance  in  the  tempest  of  merriment  that 
attacked  him.  He  fairly  rolled  on  the  floor,  gurgling 
and  screaming,  until  his  wife  caught  up  a  tumbler 
of  water  and  dashed  it  in  his  face. 

"Now  maybe  you'll  come  to  your  senses!"  she 
snapped  out.  "Of  all  the  fools  I  ever  see,  you're 


i68       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

the  wust  when  you  let  yourself  go!  Heish  up!  I 
tell  you !  or  you'll  have  all  the  poppers  on  the  place 
here  in  another  minnit. 

"Not  but  what  it  was  enough  to  make  a  dog  laugh 
— the  way  you  did  it  all!"  she  conceded  when  her 
husband  resumed  the  perpendicular,  and  only  inter- 
mittent gasps  and  snorts  told  of  the  recent  con- 
vulsion. "I  could  jes'  think  how  they'd  all  'a'  looked 
ef  you  had  a-done  it.  Lordy!"  stopping  to  chuckle. 
"What  would  stuck-up  ole  Madam  and  her  Beth 
Moore  'a'  said?" 

"They  were  both  there  and  his  high-and-mighti- 
ness,  her  son.  But  it  was  natural  that  I  should 
have  been  too  much  taken  up  with  my  dear  little 
grain  of  Rice  to  pay  much  attention  to  them.  He 
is  whiter  and  sleeker  than  ever.  Wouldn't  I  like 
to  attend  that  missionary  meeting  at  The  Glebe 
next  Wednesday?  Yet" — in  well-affected  pensive- 
ness — "I  don't  think  I  could  bear  to  see  another 
woman  in  the  place  /  might  have  had  if  I  had  known 
what  was  best  for  me  fifteen  years  ago !" 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  called  meeting  of  the  Ladies'  Missionary  So- 
ciety at  The  Glebe  at  three  o'clock  on  Wednesday 
(by  order  of  the  president)  provided  ample  proof 
that  the  grape-vine  telegraph,  with  the  poorhouse 
as  "central,"  and  Bob  Logan  as  main  operator, 
had  done  lively  work  since  Sunday. 

The  donation-party  is  of  Yankee  origin,  and  was 
known  to  Southern  Christians  only  through  domestic 
and  religious  talks  that  drifted  across  Mason  and 
Dixon's  line.  If  the  title  (which  to  my  ears  always 
has  the  eleemosynary  twang)  were  foreign  to  the 
Mount  Hor  parishioners,  the  genius  and  spirit  of 
it  were  interfused  in  church  life  as  part  and  parcel 
of  its  very  existence.  The  pastor  might  not  claim 
and  collect  tithes  of  the  worldly  possessions  of  his 
flock.  A  higher  law  of  heart  and  conscience  made 
it  a  privilege  to  keep  his  table  supplied  with  luxuries 
he  could  not  afford  to  purchase,  and  to  see  that 
barns  and  stable  and  farmyard  were  stocked.  The 
habitual  exchange  of  substantial  foods  and  delicacies 
between  neighbors  of  abundant  means  which  was  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  of  old  Virginia  social  observ- 
ances— made  any  theory  of  charity  untenable.  If  a 
lamb  were  slaughtered  at  Beau  Mont,  or  High  Hill, 
a  choice  cut  went  to  The  Glebe,  as  naturally  as  a 

169 


170       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

basket  of  plum-cake  was  sent  with  Miss  Beth's  love 
to  Montrose  or  Ingleside.  All  were  love-offerings — 
none  donations.  No  matter  how  lavish  the  tokens 
might  be,  the  pastor  was  a  benefactor — never  a 
pensioner. 

Mrs.  Winston  had  been  expressly  forbidden  to 
make  other  preparations  for  the  "called  meeting" 
than  to  lend  her  house  for  the  afternoon.  The  simple 
collation  prescribed  by  the  By-laws  was  in  hand 
before  noon.  By  the  time  breakfast  was  over,  a 
procession  of  messengers  on  horseback  and  on  foot 
delivered  their  burdens  at  the  back  door  of  The 
Glebe — with  the  "love"  (not  compliments)  of  the 
respective  mistresses,  and  bore  back  thanks  as  af- 
fectionate. 

The  mistress  of  The  Glebe  was  as  notable  in  house- 
wifery as  in  church-work,  and  had  deft  assistants  in 
Beth  Moore,  Helen  Carrington,  and  Emily  True- 
heart  from  Briarfield.  The  trio  of  adjutants  had 
reported  for  service  at  eleven  o'clock,  and  partaken 
at  twelve  of  the  "snack"  that  superseded  the  family 
dinner. 

Madam  Carrington  proffered  excuses  and  regrets 
through  Beth.  An  unexpected  visit  from  her  com- 
mission merchant,  who  had  run  up  from  town  that 
morning  to  talk  over  important  business,  "detained 
her  from  a  meeting  to  which  she  had  looked  forward 
with  pleasure." 

"Which,  being  interpreted,  means  that  she  will 
talk  for  hours  about  tobacco  and  corn,  when  she 
might  be  hearing  the  news  from  Timbuctoo  and 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       171 

Ceylon!"  interpolated  Helen,  when  Beth  repeated 
to  Mr.  Winston  the  message  at  the  luncheon-table. 

He  beamed  indulgently  upon  the  rattlepate. 

"Tobacco  and  corn  have  more  to  do  with  mis- 
sions than  you  may  believe.  The  spread  of  the 
Gospel  is  largely  dependent  upon  the  growth  of 
crops.  I  think  of  that  when  I  am  asked  to  pray 
for  rain.  But  I  am  sorry  the  commission  merchant 
took  this  day  for  the  business  call." 

As  Helen  had  owned  to  Mr.  Rice,  she  did  not 
stand  in  awe  of  the  cloth,  and  she  was  entirely  at 
ease  with  this  representative  of  the  profession. 

She  helped  herself  to  another  beaten  biscuit  and 
buttered  it,  preparatory  to  spreading  each  bit  with 
peach  marmalade. 

"Poor  grandmother!  I  can  fancy  her  misgivings 
between  accounts  of  sales  and  bargains,  as  she 
wonders  who  will  put  on  the  brakes  when  the  wheels 
of  gossip  are  fairly  started.  I  have  great  confidence 
in  your  executive  ability,  Mrs.  Winston,  but  you 
see,  grandmother  has  had  more  experience  with  the 
species  of  gossip  indigenous  to  this  region.  I  don't 
know  that  it  is  really  more  hardy  and  pestiferous 
than  that  grown  in  other  latitudes.  I  may  imagine 
this  because  I  know  more  about  it." 

"We  will  set  an  example  in  the  work  of  crushing 
it  out  by  refusing  to  believe  that  our  neighbors  are 
worse  than  others,"  suggested  Mrs.  Winston,  pleas- 
antly, and  changed  the  subject. 

The  talk  was  to  recur  to  her  with  disagreeable 
force  when  one  of  the  first  arrivals,  Mrs.  Scott, 


172       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

whose  estate  of  Crowndale  was  within  a  couple  of 
miles  of  the  poorhouse  farm,  hardly  laid  aside  her 
bonnet  before  breaking  forth  with: 

"Do  you  suppose  it  can  be  true  that  that  horrid 
woman  at  the  poorhouse  who  declares  she  is  Molly 
Watkins  actually  had  the  assurance  to  go  to  church 
last  Sunday?  I  have  heard  it  from  the  very  best 
authority.  In  fact,  my  informant  told  me  that 
when  she  heard  the  report  on  Sunday  night  she  was 
so  wrought  up  that  she  drove  over  to  the  poorhouse 
Monday  morning,  and  insisted  upon  seeing  the 
wretch  with  her  own  eyes.  And  I  am  grieved  to 
the  heart  to  be  obliged  to  say  that  there  is  no  doubt 
as  to  her  identity.  My  friend  knew  Molly  Watkins 
well,  and  this  is  the  very  same  person!  She  flew 
into  a  passion  when  Mrs. — my  informant — told 
her  that  she  had  altered  so  much  it  would  be  hard 
to  convince  people  that  she  was  the  same  girl. 

"  'Perhaps  you  would  have  been  the  worse  for 
wear,  if  you  had  been  through  purgatory ! '  she  al- 
most screamed.  '  Maybe  I  can  tell  you  a  thing  or 
two  that  may  change  your  mind ! '  And  with  that 
she  ran  on  with  a  string  of  stuff  about  my  informant's 
family  and  neighbors,  and  county-scandals  that 
were  perfectly  shocking  but  quite  true  in  the  main, 
you  know?  My  informant  says  that  nobody  who 
heard  Molly  Watkins  carry  on  in  the  old  days  could 
disbelieve  her.  Ah ! "  as  a  majestic  figure  appeared 
in  the  doorway  and  paid  her  respects  to  the  hostess, 
"here  is  Mrs.  Meade  now!  She  may  be  able  to 
throw  some  light  on  the  matter ! " 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       173 

"If  by  the  'matter'  you  mean  the  disgraceful 
story  I  was  telling  you  yesterday,"  began  the  new- 
comer with  a  magisterial  wave  of  the  hand. 

"I  have  not  mentioned  your  name,"  interposed 
the  other,  deprecatingly. 

Another  gesture,  larger  and  more  comprehensive 
than  the  former,  closed  her  mouth. 

"I  affirm  nothing  unless  I  am  positive  it  is  true ! 
If  any  one  here  needs  confirmation  of  what  I  told 
Mrs.  Scott,  I  may  mention  that  two  other  ladies 
of  unquestioned  veracity,  after  hearing  my  story, 
considered  it  a  duty  they  owed  to  the  community 
to  see  for  themselves  whether  I  was  right  or  in  error. 
So  they  went  together  to  that  horrible  hole !  I  can 
think  of  nothing  but  'a  sink  of  iniquity'  when  I 
recollect  what  I  myself  saw  and  heard!  And  the 
abandoned  creature  put  the  finishing  touch  to  her 
identification  by  actually  stripping  off  her  dress 
and  showing  them  the  initials  'M.  W.'  tattooed  by 
that  dissipated  sailor-brother  of  hers.  Everybody 
heard  of  the  freak  at  the  time.  When  the  ladies 
exclaimed  in  horror  at  seeing  it,  she  laughed  like 
a  fiend.  '  Seeing  is  believing — is  it  ? '  she  said.  And 
she  capped  the  insult  by  telling  them  what  a  fine 
story  they  would  have  to  tell  at  the  'called  meeting' 
to-day.  'I  was  in  church  Sunday  and  heard  the 
notice  given.  I  had  thought  of  going  myself  just 
for  the  fun  of  it,'  she  said.  'It  would  have  been  a 
jolly  lark.  But  I  am  not  personally  acquainted 
with  the  present  parson's  wife,  and  I  didn't  like 
to  intrude.  When  poor  little  Naomi  Rice  was  alive, 


174       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

I  used  to  have  the  run  of  The  Glebe.  She  and  I 
were  great  chums.' ' 

"They  were!"  assented  Mrs.  Matthew  Harrison 
who,  with  half-a-dozen  others,  had  entered  while 
the  excited  harangue  was  in  full  flow,  unobserved 
by  any  one  except  the  embarrassed  hostess.  "After 
hearing  all  the  revolting  tales  that  have  been  flying 
about  the  county  since  Sunday,  I  felt  that  my  path 
of  duty  was  plain.  I  was  the  first  to  try  to  ascertain 
the  facts  of  the  shocking  scandal.  And  painful  as 
it  was,  I  went  to-day  again  to  that — POOL!"  paus- 
ing to  take  breath  after  the  bold  flight — "and  I  saw 
the — Magdalen !  for  myself !  She  was  in  bed,  having 
had  some  sort  of  fit,  spitting  blood  and  all  that, 
after  the  visit  of  the  ladies  of  whom  Mrs.  Meade 
was  speaking  just  now.  Mrs.  Blankenship  had  put 
her  to  bed  in  her  own  chamber  down-stairs,  and  I 
found  her  there.  The  Blankenships  tried  to  per- 
suade me  not  to  see  her.  Whereupon  I  took  the 
liberty  of  telling  him  that,  in  the  opinion  of  highly 
respectable  people  with  whom  I  had  talked,  he  had 
taken  a  great  deal  upon  himself  in  admitting  the 
creature  without  consulting  the  Board.  He  tried 
to  excuse  himself  by  saying  that  she  was  not  there 
as  a  pauper  or  regular  inmate,  but  as  an  old  friend 
of  his  and  a  visitor. 

"  *  I  ain't  never  entered  her  name  in  the  poorhouse 
books,'  he  said  in  his  coarse  way.  'An'  as  /  look  at 
the  case,  it's  no  business  of  the  county  who  stays 
in  my  part  of  the  house.'  He  was  very  insolent, 
until  I  reminded  him  who  I  was,  and  that  my  sons 
might  have  influence  with  the  authorities. 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       175 

"All  this  was  at  the  door  of  my  carriage  with 
the  servants  within  hearing.  At  that,  he  gave  in, 
and  begged  my  pardon  and  said  something  about 
the  Watkinses  having  been  kind  to  him  when  he 
was  a  poor  boy,  and  all  that. 

"I  answered  that  the  feeling  was  creditable  to 
him,  and  that  I  had  no  intention  of  trespassing  upon 
his  premises,  but  I  must  have  the  evidence  of  my 
own  senses  as  to  the  truth  or  falsity  of  what  was 
going  the  rounds  of  the  county,  and  so  forth.  Well ! 
as  I  said,  I  got  a  look  at  the  woman  and  am  con- 
vinced that  she  is  no  other  than  the  Molly  Watkins 
who  disgraced  us  all,  and  broke  her  father's  and 
mother's  hearts  by  her  conduct  fifteen  years  ago. 
She  was  lying  in  bed  as  I  said,  with  a  cap  on.  A 
lock  of  hair  had  escaped  from  the  cap  and  lay  on 
the  pillow. 

"I  took  hold  of  it  and  said:  'Your  hair  is  darker 
than  I  thought  it  was.' 

"With  that  she  laughed — and  it  was  Molly  Wat- 
kins's  laugh,  and  no  mistake.  'It  used  to  be  light- 
brown.  One  of  my  beaux — little  Mahlon  Rice  it  was 
(I  saw  him  in  church  Sunday) — called  it  "  golden 
chestnut."  I  always  said  that  dark  hair  ought  to 
go  with  black  eyes.  So  I  had  my  head  shaved — 
three  times.  The  hair  grew  in  darker  every  time. 
It  is  not  as  dark  yet  as  I  want  it  to  be.  And  it  doesn't 
matter  now  that  Mahlon  admires  golden  chestnut ! ' ' 

An  audible  shudder  that  was  a  moan  ran  around 
the  room.  Helen  was  crying  silently  upon  Beth's 
shoulder. 


176       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

Mrs.  Winston  brought  her  pencil-case  down  upon 
the  table  with  a  sharp  click: 

"Attention,  ladies !  if  you  please !  We  have  now 
more  than  a  quorum  present.  The  meeting  will 
please  come  to  order !" 

She  was  obeyed  so  far  as  outward  show  of  order 
went.  The  meeting  was  "opened "  by  a  short  prayer, 
and  a  brief  psalm  was  read.  It  was  patent  that 
nobody  was  in  a  mood  for  singing,  and  the  presi- 
dent proceeded  at  once  to  the  business  that  had 
called  them  together.  There  were  grateful  acknowl- 
edgments from  the  auxiliary  society  in  Richmond 
and  from  the  parent  organization  hi  New  York 
of  contributions  in  money  and  clothing  and  books, 
and  a  personal  letter  to  Mrs.  Winston  to  which 
she  invited  especial  attention.  Some  societies — the 
writer,  an  American  woman  who  had  worked  for 
some  years  in  Ceylon,  stated — had  adopted  orphaned 
or  deserted  native  children,  and  taken  upon  them- 
selves the  support  and  education  of  these  forlorn 
little  ones.  She  named  a  sum  that  was  an  approx- 
imate estimate  of  what  each  child  would  cost  per 
annum,  until  such  time  as  she  would  be  able  to  earn 
her  own  living.  Preparation  for  some  specific  line 
of  labor  was  included  in  the  child's  education.  In 
other  foreign-mission  stations  this  system  of  adop- 
tion had  been  conducted  with  most  gratifying  re- 
sults. 

Mrs.  Winston,  after  the  secretary  had  read  the 
letter,  pressed  home  the  project  warmly  and  in- 
telligently. She  had  thought  deeply  over,  and 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       177 

prayerfully  of  it,  since  the  receipt  of  the  communica- 
tion. She  had  gone  so  far  as  to  have  ready  for  their 
consideration  a  plan  she  craved  leave  to  submit. 
They  had  but  lately  accepted  reluctantly  and  sor- 
rowfully the  resignation  of  the  president  of  this 
society,  one  whose  good  deeds  and  virtues  were 
known  through  all  the  churches  in  the  State.  No- 
where else  were  these  held  in  such  reverence  and 
esteem  as  in  the  church  in  which  she  and  her  ances- 
tors had  worshipped  for  many  useful  years.  What 
more  graceful  tribute  could  her  coworkers,  neighbors, 
and  friends  pay  to  Madam  Paulina  Carrington  than 
to  have  a  pagan  child  christened  under  her  name  and 
reared  into  Christian  womanhood  by  the  church 
of  her  love  ? 

This  was  the  gist  of  a  ten  minutes'  talk  that 
brought  tears  to  the  eyes  of  all  present.  The  mo- 
tion, embodying  the  plan  thus  outlined,  was  made 
by  Mrs.  Meade,  seconded  by  Mrs.  Harrison,  and 
carried  by  acclamation. 

The  secretary  was  instructed  to  draft  a  letter 
to  be  submitted  to  the  author  of  the  scheme,  and 
when  approved,  to  be  forwarded  to  the  returned 
missionary  with  the  request  that  such  a  Ceylonese 
child  should  be  selected,  and  duly  registered  by  the 
Ladies'  Foreign  Missionary  Society  of  Mount  Hor 
church  in  the  Presbytery  of  East  Hanover,  Virginia. 

Molly  Watkins  was  not  mentioned  again  until 
refreshments  were  served.  Then  Mrs.  Matthew 
Harrison  took  up  the  broken  thread  of  her  narra- 
tive: 


178       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

"She  coughed  a  good  deal  while  talking,  and  her 
breath  came  short.  But  she  rallied  as  she  saw  that 
I  was  interested. 

"  'Do  you  know  that  I  was  as  good  as  engaged 
to  the  little  minister  at  one  time  ? '  she  said,  by  and 
by.  'I  couldn't  help  thinking  as  I  looked  at  him 
in  church  last  Sunday,  how  differently  things  had 
turned  out  from  what  he  and  Naomi  planned.  But 
I  wasn't  born  for  that  humdrum,  goody-goody  sort 
of  life.  "A  short  life  and  a  merry  one!"  was  my 
motto.  Well ! '  and  as  she  began  to  laugh  she  choked 
and  raised  a  mouthful  of  blood,  'well,  Mrs.  Har- 
rison/ says  she,  'I've  had  the  merry  life,  and  it's 
likely  to  be  a  short  one ! ' 

"I  saw  she  was  getting  exhausted  and  I  came 
away.  But  I  told  the  Blankenships  that  I  would 
send  around  some  wine  and  beef-tea  to-morrow, 
and  advised  them  to  have  the  doctor  without  de- 
lay. You  know  Doctor  Armistead  attends  the  poor- 
house  patients." 

"Isn't  he  getting  pretty  old  for  active  practice?" 
inquired  Beth,  gravely. 

In  saying  it  she  squeezed  Helen's  arm  warningly. 
She  felt  her  stir  as  if  to  speak. 

"I  dare  say  he  is,  but  the  county  doesn't  allow 
enough  to  tempt  a  younger  man.  Those  Blanken- 
ships seem  to  be  kind-hearted  and  they  certainly 
take  much  interest  in  her.  It  was  nice,  their  bring- 
ing her  down  into  their  chamber  where  she  is  as 
comfortable  as  might  be  expected.  He  is  a  rough, 
uncouth  fellow,  but  it  was  rather  touching,  his  re- 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HELL       179 

fusing  to  put  her  on  the  county  because  she  used 
to  take  notice  of  him  when  he  was  a  barefoot  boy. 
He  told  me  about  it  on  the  way  out.  Altogether, 
it  would  make  a  romantic  story,  in  the  right  hands." 

Paul  Carrington  paid  his  second  visit  to  the  Blan- 
kenship  "wing"  on  Thursday  forenoon.  Recollect- 
ing that  the  sick  woman  was  now  on  the  first  floor, 
he  dismounted  at  some  distance  from  the  house, 
tied  his  horse  to  the  branch  of  a  tree,  and  walked 
cautiously  on  the  turf  until  nearly  opposite  the 
wing.  There  he  paused  on  the  spot  where  he  and 
Rashe  had  their  colloquy,  and  looked  about  for 
somebody  who  could  take  a  message  to  the  pro- 
prietor. The  window  of  the  chamber  was  open, 
and  he  presently  descried  Mrs.  Blankenship's  curl- 
papers in  the  triangular  space  between  the  curtains. 
She  nodded  vehemently,  waved  her  hand,  and 
vanished.  In  three  minutes  the  burly  figure  of 
Rashe  hastened  around  the  corner  of  the  house. 

"Well!  Well!  Well!!  I  suttinly  am  glad 
you  ain't  a  woman!"  he  puffed  when  within  hear- 
ing. 

His  face  was  one  broad  smile  and  he  had  "washed- 
up"  so  hurriedly  that  the  pudgy  fingers  stuck  to 
Paul's  ungloved  hand. 

"So  am  I !"  he  said,  falling  into  the  host's  mood. 
Gravity  was  out  of  the  question.  "But  why  are 
you  especially  glad  to-day,  may  I  ask?" 

"Set  down!  Set  down !  and  I'll  tell  you !"  He 
pulled  a  chair  from  behind  the  nearest  tree  and 
gesticulated  to  a  colored  man,  shambling  across  the 


i8o       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

yard,  to  fetch  another  from  the  porch.  Subsiding 
into  this,  he  went  on: 

"'Cause  why?  I'm  clean  tired  out  talkin'  to 
the  women  what  has  been  streakin'  in  and  out  of 
the  place  ever  sence  I  was  fool  enough  to  let  them 
two  (I  was  about  to  say  ' hussies'  but  I  won't,  this 
time!)  go  to  church  Sunday.  She" — jerking  an  el- 
bow in  the  direction  of  the  house — uwas  so  almighty 
sure  nobody  wouldn't  never  reconnize  her  with  her 
veil  tight  shet  down  over  her  chin,  that  I  giv'  in. 
And  blamed  sorry  I've  been  for  it !" 

"I  was  surprised  when  I  heard  of  it,"  answered 
Paul.  "But  I  do  not  think  any  one  suspected  who 
the  person  you  mean  was.  Everybody  knows  Bob 
Logan,  and  the  gossips  jumped  to  the  conclusion 
that  his  passenger  was  from  the  poorhouse.  She 
did  not  wait  to  speak  to  any  one,  I  think." 

"She  will  have  it  as  how  Mr.  Rice  knowed  her 
through  the  veil !  But  as  I  said  to  her,  'tain't  likely 
he  went  'round  blabbin'  about  it  ef  he  did  mistrust 
who  she  was." 

"I  can  answer  for  it  that  he  did  not  even  notice 
her  in  church,  much  less  suspect  that  she  was  any 
one  he  had  ever  seen  before." 

Paul  said  it  decidedly  and  with  dignity.  "I  came 
to-day,  Mr.  Blankenship,  as  I  came  some  weeks 
ago,  with  a  message  from  my  mother. 

"She  has  heard  that  the  daughter  of  her  old  friend, 
Mrs.  Watkins,  is  ill  and  hi  need  of  medical  attend- 
ance better  than  she  is  likely  to  get  from  the  county 
physician.  She  wishes  to  know  just  how  she  is  to- 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       181 

day,  and  if  my  mother  may  send  Doctor  Graham — 
her  family  doctor — to  see  what  can  be  done  for 
her?" 

Rashe  shook  his  head  violently,  and  pursed  his 
lips  hard. 

"I'm  afeered  Miss  Molly  wouldn't  hear  of  it, 
ef  she  thought  she  needed  a  doctor — an'  she  says 
she's  ever  so  much  better  to-day.  She  had  some 
sleepin'  medicine  of  her  own  that  she  took  las'  night, 
an'  it  done  her  a  heap  o'  good.  She  got  up  'bout 
an  hour  ago,  and  eat  quite  a  fa'r  breakfas'  so  my 
wife  tells  me,  and  is  dressin'  now.  She  suttinly 
has  got  grit  an'  spunk !  Ef  you  had  a-heered  her 
carryin'  on  with  that  ole  turkey-buzzard,  Mrs.  Matt 
Harrison,  you'd  onderstand  what  I  mean.  My  wife, 
she  says  'twas  good  as  a  play.  She  was  listenin'  in 
the  po'ch,  and  pretty  nigh  died  a-laughin'  when 
she  took  it  off  to  me.  But  as  I  was  about  to  say, 
the  fac'  is  she  has  a  notion  that  Madam  Carrington 
has  somethin'  aginst  her  ever  sence  she  was  a  wild 
case  of  a  girl.  To  speak  plain,  suh,  she  sez  to  me, 
one  day,  '  Mr.  Blankenship ! '  sez  she,  a-laughin' 
fit  to  kill  herself,  'Madam  Carrington  hates  me 
like  the  devil  hates  holy  water!'  You  know  her 
way  of  talkin'  ?  " 

Paul  Carrington  got  up:  "On  the  contrary,  my 
mother  was  once  very  much  attached  to  this  un- 
fortunate woman,  and  even  now,  she  would  do  all 
in  her  power  to  make  her  comfortable  for  the  sake 
of  her  friendship  for  the  mother  who  died  of  a  broken 
heart  hi  consequence  of  her  daughter's  disgrace. 


182       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

Moreover,  as  you  know,  my  mother  professes  and 
lives  the  religion  that  teaches  her  to  do  good  to  all 
who  need  her  services.  It  is  not  hi  her  nature  to 
'hate'  anybody,  and  she  has  only  pity  for  this  poor 
mistaken  creature.  She  will  be  relieved  to  hear 
that  your  visitor  is  better.  My  mother's  will  holds 
good  to  render  whatever  aid  she  can  to  her,  should 
she  grow  worse.  I  know,  too,  that  she  would  have 
me  thank  you  and  Mrs.  Blankenship  for  your  great 
kindness  to  the  daughter  of  her  old  friends.  Please 
say  as  much  to  Mrs.  Blankenship  with  my  regards. 
Good  morning!" 

After  rendering  a  brusque  report  of  the  inter- 
view to  his  "boarder,"  prudent  Rashe  took  his  wife 
out  to  the  cow-shed  to  make  sure  that  they  could 
not  be  heard  by  the  convalescent  in  the  chamber. 

"I  jes'  couldn't  let  on  to  her  of  them  las'  things 
he  said,"  he  owned,  when  he  had  made  a  clean  breast 
of  what  had  gone  through  the  thick  membrane  guard- 
ing his  sensibilities.  "He  meant  it  all  too  much 
for  me  to  have  fun  poked  at  it.  An'  that  she'd  do, 
sure's  you're  born.  She  ain't  got  no  respec'  for 
no  thin'  upon  earth  nor  in  heaven !" 


CHAPTER  XIV 

A  VAST  canopy  of  sullen  gray  stretched  from  horizon 
to  horizon;  unresting  winds  that  sobbed  above  the 
rain-drenched  landscape  moaned  in  the  tree-tops 
and  tore  screamingly  past  chimneys  and  gables; 
this  was  what  the  High  Hill  family  saw  and  heard 
through  the  windows  of  the  breakfast-room  one 
morning  ten  days  after  Paul's  second  visit  to  the 
poorhouse. 

"The  August  storm  is  sure  to  come,"  said  Mad- 
am Carrington,  taking  her  seat  behind  the  coffee- 
urn.  "This  year  it  is  early  in  the  month.  It  will 
hold  on  for  twenty-four  hours.  The  thermometer 
has  fallen  ten  degrees  since  bedtime  last  night. 
We  shall  not  have  clear  weather  while  the  cold  con- 
tinues." 

Madam  was  the  acknowledged  meteorologist  of 
the  community.  Her  weather  prophecies  were  ac- 
cepted without  demur  by  her  household.  A  lively 
fire  of  lightwood  knots  leaped  up  the  chimney  be- 
hind her  chair.  One  had  been  kindled  in  the  chamber 
at  sunrise  and  swiftly  tempered  the  damp  chilliness 
of  the  drawing-room  in  which  Helen  would  prac- 
tise all  the  forenoon  upon  a  supply  of  new  music 
just  received  from  town. 

The  leaden-gray  curtain  was  without  a  rift,  and 

183 


184       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

the  rain  drove  steadily  against  the  office-windows 
when  Paul  Carrington  and  Mr.  Rice  settled  them- 
selves for  a  comforting  after-dinner  smoke.  A  bed 
of  scarlet  coals  told  that  a  fire  had  burned  all  day 
in  the  deep  fireplace  below  a  superstructure  of 
seasoned  hickory  logs.  The  room  was  spacious,  and 
the  walls  were  lined  from  floor  to  ceiling  with  the 
finest  library  in  any  private  house  for  a  hundred 
miles  around.  A  broad  desk  with  a  background  of 
pigeonholes  was  near  the  western  window;  the 
centre-table  with  the  reading-lamp  and  burden  of 
loose  papers  had  been  rolled  to  one  side  to  make 
room  for  two  armchairs  set  directly  in  front  of  the 
fire. 

The  master  of  the  cosey  retreat  produced  a  couple 
of  dressing-gowns  from  a  closet  and  handed  one  to 
his  guest: 

"Might  as  well  be  comfortable  indoors!  This  is 
a  day  after  my  own  heart.  Cowper  and  I  are  at 
one  there!  But  in  place  of  the  'cup  that  cheers 
but  not  inebriates,'  give  me  a  homely  Powhatan 
pipe  and  Virginia-grown-and-cured  tobacco." 

He  stood  with  one  hand  on  the  back  of  his  chair, 
surveying  with  undisguised  approval  the  tall  figure 
at  the  other  end  of  the  rug,  as  Paul  drew  the  crim- 
son folds  of  the  gown  over  his  chest  and  tied  the 
cord  about  his  waist. 

"You  are  what  Mammy  Tina  calls  a  'sportly 
figger  of  a  man,'  "  broke  from  the  host,  impulsively. 
"And  never  in  better  shape  than  now.  Your  mother 
and  I  agreed  upon  that  point  in  a  talk  I  had  with 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       185 

her  last  night.  You  are  emphatically  her  'strong 
staff  and  beautiful  rod. ' ! 

"  God  bless  you  for  saying  it !  I  ought  to  be  look- 
ing my  best !  Congratulate  me,  Rice !  There  is 
not  a  happier  man  upon  the  broad  earth  than  I  am 
to-day!" 

Had  they  been  two  women  they  would  have  fallen 
upon  each  other's  necks  with  kisses  and  tears  to  do 
duty  for  words  that  would  not  come.  As  it  was, 
the  older  man  swallowed  hard  before  he  could  say: 

"Congratulate  you!  With  my  whole  heart  and 
soul !  I  have  hoped  and  prayed  for  this  hour  these 
many,  many  years.  I  read  the  blessed  truth  in 
your  face  and  in  hers  the  instant  I  saw  you  come 
into  the  dining-room  together.  It  was  all  I  could 
do  to  hold  my  tongue  and  say  grace  instead  of  re- 
turning thanks.  And  it  is  all  right,  then — at  last ! 
Sit  down  and  let  me  take  in  the  glad  tidings  like  a 
man !  I  could  cry  like  a  baby  out  of  sheer  happi- 
ness." 

Paul  wrung  both  of  the  speaker's  hands,  his  own 
lips  trembling  and  his  voice  unsteady. 

"I  believe  every  word  you  say,  and  thank  you 
more  than  I  can  ever  express.  This  is  the  closing 
chapter  of  a  long,  dark  story.  Heaven  grant  that 
the  life  now  opening  to  us  may  bring  forgetfulness 
of  that  bitter,  bitter  past!  Sit  down,  light  your 
pipe,  and  let  me  think  for  a  little  while." 

Both  pipes  were  filled  and  lighted,  and  the  two 
men  sat  for  a  long  while  staring  into  the  fire.  The 
rain  lashed  the  panes  and  the  wind  cried  shrilly 


i86       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

in  the  throat  of  the  chimney.  The  pair  might  have 
been  the  only  living  creatures  in  their  world  of 
thought  and  action. 

Paul  spoke  at  last.  For  a  few  minutes,  his  articu- 
lation was  deliberate,  and  the  forced  calmness  of 
manner  and  accent  reminded  the  listener  of  a  strong 
rein  drawn  upon  a  restive  horse. 

"Yes!  a  bitter  past  that  seemed,  in  the  living  of 
it,  an  eternity !  I  have  never  opened  my  lips  to 
you,  Rice,  with  regard  to  what  you  have  now  a  right 
to  know — you,  the  truest  friend  that  ever  man  had ! 
It  has  trembled  upon  my  lips  a  thousand  times  when 
all  the  waves  and  billows  of  fate  went  over  me." 

He  reached  over  the  hearth  for  the  poker  and 
dealt  the  uppermost  log  a  blow  that  shook  the  pile 
down  to  the  scarlet  base.  Then  he  set  the  iron  rod 
back  in  its  place. 

"In  order  to  make  you  comprehend  the  worst 
of  the  tragedy,  I  must  go  back  twenty  years.  I 
will  get  over  the  most  shameful  parts  of  it  as  fast 
as  I  can.  But  two  other  people  alive  know  what 
I  am  going  to  confide  to  you — my  mother  and  Beth. 
God  bless  them  both !  He  never  made  other  women 
like  them." 

Mr.  Rice  nodded.  "You  are  right!  Take  your 
time,  dear  boy,  and  tell  what  you  have  to  say  in 
your  own  way." 

Paul  leaned  back  with  locked  hands  and  set 
features,  still  gazing  into  the  fire.  As  he  went  on, 
he  spoke  rapidly  for  a  while,  then  seemed  to  get 
himself  in  hand : 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       187 

"I  need  not  tell  you  that  I  was,  in  some  sort,  a 
spoiled  favorite  of  fortune  from  my  youth  up.  You 
know  what  I  was  when  I  set  forth — as  I  said,  gayly — 
'to  seek  my  fortune.'  The  estate  owned  land  in 
Baton  Rouge  and  stocks  in  New  Orleans.  My 
mother  sent  me  South  to  look  after  them.  The 
Larues  had  a  plantation  in  Baton  Rouge,  and  spent 
their  winters  in  New  Orleans.  The  head  of  the  fam- 
ily was  a  brother  (married  to  his  cousin) ;  there  were 
two  children,  and  his  sister.  I  fell  madly  in  love  with 
her.  She  was  a  revelation  of  womanhood  to  me.  You 
know  what  types  I  had  seen  all  my  life.  Refined, 
well-educated,  and  well-bred,  'gentlewomen'  in  the 
best  sense  of  the  word.  I  had  met,  while  in  college 
and  university,  a  few  of  what  were  alluded  to  re- 
gretfully by  their  elders  as  'rather  wild  girls.'  They 
never  attracted  me,  nor,  for  that  matter,  did  the 
decorous  'pattern'  damsels  who  had  the  stamp  of 
'eligible'  from  social  censors.  I  had  never  fancied 
myself  in  love,  even  as  a  schoolboy.  I  had  my  dreams 
and  I  meant  to  hold  myself  heart-whole  until  these 
were  realized.  You  know  what  marvellous  powers 
of  fascination  the  woman  possessed  whom  I  brought 
home  as  my  wife  after  six  weeks'  acquaintanceship. 
It  is  unnecessary,  too,  for  me  to  remind  you  of  her 
career  in  this  churchgoing,  patrician  neighborhood. 
She  swept  across  the  county  heavens  like  a  comet." 

The  other  raised  a  warning  hand. 

"Don't  trouble  yourself  to  dwell  upon  that,  dear 
fellow!  /know!" 

"Yes!  and  to  your  cost!    She  had  a  host  of  ad- 


i88       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

mirers  and  some  imitators.  Let  that  pass!  My 
mad  dream  was  broken  by  the  discovery  forced 
upon  me  before  six  months  had  passed,  that  she 
had  married  me  to  secure  permanently  what  she 
held  in  her  brother's  house,  by  the  grace  of  her  sister- 
in-law — luxury,  all  the  appurtenances  of  wealth — 
a  life  of  pleasure  and  excitement — all  the  money  she 
wanted,  and  social  triumphs  and  conquests.  Her 
pursuits  and  aims  I  had  been  brought  up  to  regard 
as  ignoble  and  debasing,  and  beneath  the  dignity 
of  the  highest  order  of  woman.  My  mother  was 
my  standard.  You  know,  too,  that  Cecile  hated 
her  at  sight,  and  that  there  was,  so  far  as  she  could 
wage  it,  war  to  the  knife  between  the  two.  She 
flaunted  her  ' devotion'  to  a  church  for  which  she 
really  cared  less  than  nothing,  because  it  irked  my 
mother.  When  I  remonstrated  with  her  on  this 
account  and  begged  her  to  try  to  recognize  the  quali- 
ties that  made  my  mother  beloved  and  revered  by 
all  who  knew  her,  she  laughed  hi  my  face.  When 
I  persisted  and  besought  her  for  the  sake  of  her 
love  for  me  to  overcome  her  dislike  for  the  woman 
who  also  loved  me,  she  flew  into  a  violent  rage  and 
the  truth  rolled  out  like  a  torrent  of  lava.  I  learned 
then  why  she  had  angled  for  me  and  how  great  was 
her  chagrin  at  finding  that — as  she  put  it — '  where- 
as she  had  expected  to  be  the  lady  of  the  manor  in 
an  aristocratic  Virginia  neighborhood,  she  was  the 
wife  of  a  petty  squire,  who  was  the  slave  of  his 
mother !'  But  there  are  things  I  cannot  talk  of 
even  yet,  and  to  you !" 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       189 

He  got  up  and  strode  to  the  window.  The  wailing 
wind  and  pelting  floods  of  rain  had  it  all  to  them- 
selves again. 

Mahlon  Rice  followed  his  friend,  presently,  and 
laid  an  affectionate  hand  upon  his  arm: 

"Paul!  dear,  dear  friend!  Let  me  take  all  the 
rest  for  granted !  You  must  understand  that  I  can 
guess  at  what  you  cannot — and  ought  not  to  force 
yourself  to  say !  You  are  out  of  troubled  waters 
now!  Think  of  that!" 

The  other  turned  sharply:  "Do  you  think  I  could 
be  telling  you  all  this — or  any  part  of  it — but  for 
that  thought!  But  you  are  mistaken  in  fancying 
that  you  know  all,  or  even  have  a  suspicion  of  the 
worst  of  the  horrible  blunder  I  have  made  of  my 
life.  Listen!  No!"  in  answer  to  an  energetic  ges- 
ture of  dissent  and  entreaty.  "You  must  hear  me 
through !  I  will  cut  it  as  short  as  I  can.  Come 
back  to  the  fire !  I  can  talk  more  freely  when  you 
do  not  look  at  me.  Listen !  You  recollect  that  I 
was  summoned  to  Louisiana  by  the  news  that  my 
wife  was  very  ill.  When  I  got  to  New  Orleans  her 
brother  met  me  with  the  intelligence  that  she  had 
died  six  days  before  at  Baton  Rouge.  He  had 
brought  the  body  down  to  the  city  in  a  sealed  casket 
to  await  my  arrival,  supposing  that  I  would  wish 
to  have  it  interred  in  the  family  burying-ground. 
He  was  prepared  to  accompany  me.  He  took  charge 
of  everything — including  my  dazed,  miserable  self. 
His  kindness  to  me  throughout  the  awfully  tedious 
journey  was  beyond  praise.  But  for  this  and  the 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

tactful  vigilance  that  anticipated  every  possible 
exigency,  I  think  I  should  have  gone  entirely  mad. 

"You  recollect  that  he  stayed  at  High  Hill  for 
two  days  after  the  funeral,  and  won  universal  re- 
spect and  liking  by  his  evident  devotion  to  me  and 
deep  sympathy  with  me  in  our  common  loss? 

"You  may  not  recall  that  a  week  after  he  left  us 
there  came  a  letter  from  him  asking  me  to  meet 
him  in  Richmond  where  he  'had  been  detained  by 
unexpected  business  affairs.'  I  went  at  once." 

He  pushed  his  chair  back  and  took  a  few  hurried 
turns  from  end  to  end  of  the  room,  head  down  and 
hands  clenched  behind  him.  Coming  behind  his 
friend,  he  pressed  him  back  into  his  chair  and  held 
him  thus  while  he  rushed  on: 

"Rice!  his  sister  was  not  dead!  She  had  eloped 
with  a  fabulously  rich  West  Indian  planter  and 
sailed  for  his  home  in  Havana.  'To  save  the  honor 
and  good  name  of  both  families/  the  brother  had 
gone  through  the  hellish  farce  of  the  loaded  coffin, 
bribing  his  few  confederates  heavily  to  secure  their 
silence.  He  added  particulars  which  I  will  spare 
you.  I  was  to  join  in  the  revolting  plot — or  the 
name  of  Carrington  would  be  the  laughing-stock 
of  county  and  State  and  country  for  all  time. 

"I  sprang  at  his  throat  and  would  have  killed 
him  on  the  spot  if  he  had  not  been  on  his  guard. 
We  wrestled  for  a  mad  minute.  Then  he  threw  me 
down  upon  his  bed  and  pinned  me  fast  with  his 
powerful  hands — for  he  was  bigger  and  stronger 
than  I — and  told  me  'not  to  be  a  damned  fool,  but 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       191 

to  listen  to  reason.  The  honor  of  his  family  as  well 
as  of  mine  was  at  stake.' 

"He  would  not  leave  me  all  that  night.  I  could 
see  that  he  feared  I  would  take  my  life  if  I  were 
not  watched.  I  spent  the  night  in  hell!  I  should 
have  gone  utterly  mad  but  for  the  thought  of  my 
mother.  I  verily  believed  for  some  hours  that  I 
was  really  in  the  fiery  pit,  and  that  all  that  kept 
me  from  destruction  was  the  sight  of  her  dear  face 
looking  down  at  me  over  the  edge  of  the  inferno. 

"Well!  next  morning  we  concluded  a  compact, 
sworn  to  by  each  of  us.  The  grinning  fiend  brought 
a  Bible  for  me  to  take  my  oath  upon,  and  took  a 
crucifix  from  his  pocket  for  his  own  use.  I  was  to 
pay  him  a  thousand  dollars  a  year  for  five  years, 
and  he,  on  his  part,  engaged  that  not  an  inkling 
of  the  truth  should  ever  get  abroad. 

"Then  I  came  back  to  my  mother!" 

He  was  pacing  the  floor  again,  and  talked  fast. 

"To  the  noble  woman  whom  I  was  to  deceive 
every  hour  of  the  rest  of  a  life  that  was  to  be  one 
long  living  lie ! 

"Kneeling  by  her,  my  head  in  her  arms,  as  she 
had  comforted  me  when  a  naughty  or  grieving  child, 
I  swore  a  silent  solemn  oath  to  devote  every  energy 
of  mind  and  body  henceforward  to  her  service.  I 
would  be  her  slave,  her  vassal — whatever  she  might 
will — to  my  last  breath — so  help  me,  God ! 

"Mahlon!"  stopping  abruptly,  he  dropped  into 
his  chair  and  leaned  forward  for  a  closer  look  into 
the  blanched  face  and  misted  eyes.  "Can  you  con- 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

ceive  what  these  last  years  of  purgatorial  discipline 
have  been  to  a  man  with  red  blood  in  his  veins,  and 
a  heart  that  craves  a  pure  love  the  more  hungrily 
because  of  the  unutterable  torments  of  wrecked 
hopes  and  betrayed  affection?  And  when  he  had 
continually  before  his  eyes  the  embodiment  of  all 
that  he  has  dreamed  of  and  pined  for  in  womanly 
virtues  and  graces?  While  he  dare  not  indulge 
for  one  second  the  thought  of  winning  her  for  his 
own?  God  is  my  witness  that  never,  in  my  least 
guarded  moments  of  passionate  regret,  did  I  allow 
a  hint  of  what  I  endured  to  escape  me  in  glance  or 
word.  She  was  as  truly  out  of  my  reach  as  if  she 
were  in  heaven  and  I  upon  earth.  My  mother's 
fondest  dream  ever  since  my  college  days  was  that 
the  two  beings  dearest  to  her  should  be  united.  She 
never  intimated  this  to  me,  but  I  felt  it  instinctively, 
and  suffered  the  more  keenly  for  the  consciousness. 
Then" — clapping  Mahlon's  knee  emphatically — 
"are  you  listening,  old  fellow  ?  Here  is  the  most  mar- 
vellous part  of  what  is  assuredly  a  more  improbable 
tale  than  any  begotten  in  the  brain  of  a  romance 
writer.  Do  you  recollect  the  day,  two  months  ago, 
when  Helen  begged  me  for  the  outside  of  a  foreign 
letter,  and  I  refused  it  ?  One  day  when  Mr.  Winston 
dined  with  us  ? 

"I  carried  the  foreign  letter  to  my  room  and,  after 
rereading  it,  fell  upon  my  knees  in  such  ecstasy 
of  thanksgiving  as  Christian  may  have  felt  when 
the  burden  rolled  from  his  shoulders  to  the  foot  of 
the  cross. 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       193 

"For  the  letter  was  from  the  American  Consul  at 
Genoa,  whom  I  had  known  in  the  university  twenty- 
odd  years  back.  It  informed  me  that  Mrs.  Jules 
Dupont,  an  American  lady  who  had  wintered  in 
Italy,  had  died  and  been  buried  in  the  section  of  a 
cemetery  set  apart  for  tourists  from  foreign  coun- 
tries. Another  American  woman,  with  whom  the 
deceased  had  lived,  had  sent  for  him  and  asked  him 
to  write  to  me  of  her  friend's  death.  She  stated 
that  'there  was  some  connection  by  marriage  be- 
tween the  deceased  and  my  family,  and  that  she 
had  reason  to  believe  I  would  be  interested  in  hear- 
ing the  particulars  of  the  sad  event.' 

"An  Italian  physician's  certificate  of  the  death 
was  enclosed — a  certified  copy  forwarded,  said  the 
consul,  that  there  might  be  no  uncertainty  respect- 
ing place,  dates,  etc.  In  spite  of  the  official  tone 
and  wording,  the  letter  was  kind  and  a  postscript 
mentioned  the  consul's  'pleasant  recollection  of  his 
former  classmate/ 

"There  was  not  a  shade  of  doubt  as  to  the  au- 
thenticity of  the  document.  'Mrs.  Jules  Dupont' 
was  the  name  under  which  Ce"cile  had  lived  and 
travelled  since  her  elopement  with  the  rich  West 
Indian. 

"After  all  this  long-drawn-out  agony  of  death-in- 
life,  I  was  once  more  fully  alive  and  a  free  man! 
Do  you  wonder  that  I  have  walked  upon  air  for 
the  last  two  months  ? 

"Mahlon!  dear  friend!  what  is  it?" 

The  little  minister  was  crouched  together  in  his 


194       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

chair,  his  face  buried  in  his  hands,  his  whole  frame 
heaving  with  emotion.  An  effort  to  speak  was  a 
mere  babble  of  delight,  a  conflict  of  laughter  and 
joyful  tears  that  would  have  been  absurd  if  it  had 
not  been  exquisitely  pathetic  to  the  beholder.  Look- 
ing down  at  the  quivering  form,  Paul  made  as 
though  he  would  gather  him  in  his  arms,  then 
brushed  away  drops  from  his  own  eyelids  and  spoke 
cheerily : 

"Thank  you  for  caring  so  much,  dear  old  boy! 
We've  lived  and  suffered  together  for  a  long  time. 
Please  God,  the  dawn  of  the  new  day  is  here. 

"I  could  not  have  said  all  this  to  another  creature 
— certainly  not  to  any  other  man.  I  told  my  mother 
the  facts  contained  in  the  consul's  letter.  Until 
then  I  had  never  let  her  into  the  shameful  secret 
of  the  mock  death  and  burial.  You  comprehend, 
now,  why  there  was  never  a  tombstone  put  up  until 
lately.  My  mother  urged  the  propriety  of  erecting 
one,  again  and  again.  There  were  other  things 
that  puzzled  her.  Chance  twice  brought  to  her 
knowledge  of  checks  I  was  transmitting  to  Lame. 
She  never  interferes  in  my  private  affairs,  but  she 
could  not  have  given  stronger  evidence  of  her  trust 
in  me  than  when  she  refrained  from  asking  a  solu- 
tion of  these  puzzles.  You  may  imagine  what  a 
heavenly  relief  it  was  to  make  a  clean  breast  of  every- 
thing relating  to  the  foul  mystery  that,  if  made 
public,  would  have  besmirched  an  honorable  name 
for  all  time.  It  is  the  dirtiest  page  in  our  family 
history." 


THE   CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL        195 

"Tear  it  out  of  your  memory !"  advised  Mr.  Rice 
crisply.  "And  get  out  a  new  edition  of  your  biog- 
raphy. You  couldn't  have  a  better  collaborator. 
I  take  it  you  have  kept  nothing  from  her?" 

"What  do  you  take  me  for?  I  was  far  more 
frank  with  her  than  with  my  mother.  I  could  not 
meet  her  pure  eyes  and  keep  anything  back.  Nor 
could  I  set  out  on  my  journey  to-morrow  without 
telling  her  of  my  feelings  and  hopes.  Patient  wait- 
ing has  its  limits.  I  shall  tell  the  news  to  Helen 
to-morrow  morning.  I  would  tell  her  to-night,  but 
she  would  not  sleep  a  wink,  dear  child,  for  happiness ! 
She  will  never  know  how  certain  tricks  of  speech 
and  manner  and  temper  stab  me  to  the  heart.  Beth 
has  more  influence  over  her  than  anybody  else,  and, 
we  may  be  sure,  it  will  be  exerted  in  the  wisest  way." 

The  talk  had  subsided  healthfully  into  normal 
channels.  The  early  dusk  pressed  against  the  stream- 
ing window-panes,  but  the  hickory  was  all  aglow 
and  the  ruddy  flames  drove  the  shadows  out  of  the 
farthest  corners  of  the  room.  Both  men  puffed 
away  at  refilled  pipes  and  hearkened  silently  to  the 
vain  buffeting  of  the  August  storm  against  stout 
walls  and  rattling  sashes.  Hour  and  environment 
were  peculiarly  favorable  for  the  exchange  of  con- 
fidences neither  of  them  would  have  given  freely 
at  another  time.  In  a  quarter-century  of  congenial 
companionship,  they  had  never  drawn  so  close  to- 
gether before.  And,  as  must  be  when  friendship 
is  without  the  alloy  of  selfish  reserves  and  prudential 
second  thought,  the  silence  that  ensued  upon  the 


196       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

extraordinary  narration  was  as  eloquent  as  the  most 
impassioned  utterance  could  have  been  to  either  of 
the  two. 

When  at  last  Paul  spoke,  it  was  slowly  and  mus- 
ingly, as  if  in  seK-communion : 

"  Only  the  God  she  has  served  all  her  life  long  with 
singleness  of  devotion  no  saint  ever  surpassed  knows 
what  my  mother  is — what  she  has  done  and  borne — 
and  forgiven!  Her  marriage  to  my  father  was  a 
love-match  on  both  sides.  He  was  sweet-natured, 
courteous,  and  studious.  He  had  succeeded  to  a 
large  estate  which  he  was  utterly  incapable  of 
managing.  My  mother  is  systematic,  energetic, 
industrious — in  short,  just  the  one  to  step  into  the 
place  he  could  not  fill.  Ask  any  business  man  in 
the  county,  or  in  Richmond,  what  he  thinks  of  her, 
as  planter  and  financier,  and  you  will  get  the  same 
story  from  all.  Oh !  I  have  heard  the  impertinent 
talk  about  '  etcetera ' !  Who  has  not  ?  My  father 
would  have  had  spirit  enough  to  knock  the  man 
down  who  dared  repeat  it  to  him.  He  loved  and 
honored  the  wife  who  saved  the  patrimonial  estate 
from  ruin  and  himself  from  bankruptcy.  Before 
I  entered  college  he  opened  his  heart  to  me  upon 
this  subject.  He  knew  his  weaknesses  and  her 
abounding  strength.  She  never  showed  herself 
more  worthy  of  his  adoration  than  by  her  love  for 
him.  When  she  could  ignore  his  shortcomings,  she 
did  it  tactfully  and  cleverly.  When  she  had  to  throw 
herself  into  the  breach  made  by  his  lack  of  adminis- 
trative and  executive  ability,  it  was  done  promptly 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       197 

and  effectively.  He  told  me  how  gratefully  he  ap- 
preciated it  all,  and  how  deep  was  his  reverence 
for  her.  In  reminding  me  what  heavy  responsibili- 
ties would  devolve  upon  me,  her  only  son — he  com- 
mended her,  first  of  all,  to  me  as  a  sacred  trust.  If 
I  had  not  been  trained  from  babyhood  to  regard 
my  father  as  the  very  best  of  men,  he  would  have 
taken  the  highest  place  in  my  esteem  from  the  hour 
of  that  confidential  talk.  It  was  in  this  very  room, 
by  the  way,  and  on  a  rainy  day — "  the  son  broke 
off  to  say,  with  a  half-laugh.  "Nor  was  that  the 
only  conference  we  held  together  here.  I  was  never 
afraid  to  bring  to  him  my  boyish  troubles  and 
scrapes.  His  counsel  was  sound,  his  sympathy  un- 
failing. He  never  punished  me !  I  do  not  forget 
that.  The  duty  may  not  have  been  more  tolerable 
to  my  mother  than  to  him.  She  was  made  of  firmer 
fibre.  That  was  all !  I  ought  to  have  been  a  better 
man  with  such  examples  before  me.  And,  like  the 
weak  passionate  fool  I  was,  I  made  shipwreck  of 
my  happiness,  and  would  have  blasted  hers  had 
she  been  like  any  other  woman  ever  created.  She 
stood  by  me  through  it  all. 

"There  were  terrible  scenes  sometimes!"  shud- 
deringly.  "  She  kept  her  temper  under  the  fire  that 
must  have  burned  to  her  heart's  core.  She  never 
talked  to  me  of  these  scenes  afterward.  In  all  the 
period  I  write  down  in  memory  as  the  dark  age 
of  my  life,  she  did  not  once  speak  harshly  of  the 
one  who  had  brought  discord  and  turmoil  into  our 
peaceful,  prosperous  life.  When  I  laid  before  her 


198       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

the  amazing  revelation  of  the  sequel  contained  "in 
the  consul's  letter,  her  first  words  were :  *  The  Father 
of  us  all  is  very  merciful.  We  will  hope  that  His 
love  found  her  out  at  the  last.' 

"You  don't  need  to  be  told  that  my  mother  is 
absolutely  truthful.  When  she  said  this  she  meant 
every  word  of  it.  Cant  and  sanctimoniousness  are 
words  not  to  be  found  in  her  dictionary." 

"Don't  waste  time  and  breath  upon  useless  in- 
formation!" interposed  Mr.  Rice  dryly.  "Helen 
calls  this  room  'the  confessional,'  and  you  say  it 
earned  the  title  long  before  she  was  born.  How 
short  the  days  are  growing !  And  the  August  storm 
abridges  this  one  by  an  hour." 

He  stirred  the  fire  to  a  livelier  blaze,  and  put  on 
two  more  logs.  "  If  the  weather  is  as  bad  to-morrow, 
must  you  go  all  the  same?" 

"I  ought  not  to  delay  the  trip  a  day  longer.  The 
roads  will  be  heavy  for  perhaps  a  week  to  come. 
But  the  stage  will  run  regularly.  If  I  do  not  take 
it  to-morrow,  that  will  mean  a  postponement  of 
two  days.  I  have  business  in  New  York  that  must 
be  looked  into.  Then,  there  is  this  offer  for  those 
lots  in  Cincinnati.  Beth's  guardian  invested  some 
of  her  money  in  Ohio  lands,  which  the  city  has  over- 
taken at  last.  The  prospects  are  fair  that  she  may 
get  back  the  sums  disbursed  in  all  these  years  for 
taxes,  and  pocket  a  tidy  sum  besides.  I  have  at- 
tended to  these  matters  for  her  since  the  death  of 
her  guardian.  There  is  the  more  reason,  now,  for 
me  to  see  that  she  is  not  cheated." 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       199 

He  said  it  with  a  happy  little  laugh,  and  held 
his  watch  down  to  the  fire-glare: 

"  We  must  be  going  in  soon.  Supper  will  be  ready 
in  half  an  hour.  Let  me  try  again  to  thank  you 
for  the  patient  attention  you  have  lent  to  my  long 
and  painful  story.  These  two  hours  in  the  confes- 
sional have  been  good  for  my  heart,  and  I  hope 
for  my  soul.  From  this  moment  I  obey  your  ad- 
vice and  begin  a  new  edition  of  my  biography.  I 
would  throw  away  the  old  but  for  the  priceless 
memories  of  mother-love  and  such  loyal  friendship 
as  is  granted  few  men.  I  shall  carry  them  to  the 
grave  and  beyond." 


CHAPTER  XV 

*  There's  nae  luck  aboot  th'  house, 

There's  nae  luck  at  a', 
There's  nae  luck  aboot  the  house 

Now  the  gude  mon's  awa' ! ' " 

crooned  Helen  Carrington,  two  days  after  her 
father's  departure,  mounting  the  porch-steps  to 
the  corner  where  her  grandmother  and  Beth  were 
seated. 

Her  face  was  as  dolorous  as  her  chant,  and  she 
carried  in  her  hand  a  ball  of  yellow  fluff.  It  lay 
prone  and  stiff  upon  her  palm  as  she  exhibited  it. 

"Died  of  the  pip!"  she  went  on,  dramatically. 
"No!  auntie!  it  is  not  a  Dorking.  But  now  the 
plague  has  crept  into  the  poultry-yard,  there  is  no 
telling  how  soon  every  darling  Dorkingite  may  be 
down  with  it.  Grandmother's  August  storm  has 
broken  five  buds  on  my  Oriental  pearl  rose-bush 
and  drowned,  or  pelted  to  death,  one  of  the  second 
brood  of  baby-ducks.  That  seems  funny  enough ! 
But  it  was  a  Muscovy,  and  Mammy  Tina  is  tearing 
her  turban  over — 'What  good  eatin'  them  mouse- 
covies  suttinly  does  make,  come  winter!'  One  of 
the  piano-keys  is  dumb — and  we'll  have  to  send  to 
town  for  a  man  to  set  it  going  again. 

"I  know  just  how  the  man  felt  who 

"'Stood  beneath  a  hollow  tree, 

The  blast  it  hollow  blew, 
And  thought  of  all  the  hollow  world 
And  all  its  hollow  crew.' 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       201 

"Don't  try  to  reason  with  me  that  the  chapter 
of  accidents  has  nothing  to  do  with  father's  going 
away.  I  know  better ! " 

"We  might  make  maple-sugar  candy!"  quoted 
Beth  demurely. 

"And  we  might  have  a  military  funeral  for  the 
defunct  chicken!"  with  a  disdainful  grimace.  "In- 
stead of  either,  I  am  going  to  ride  to  the  court-house 
with  our  grave  and  reverend  and  always  delightful 
chaplain.  He  invited  me  just  now  in  the  Dorking 
salle  a  manger.  I  have  just  time  to  get  into  my  rid- 
ing toggery.  Au  revoir!" 

She  ran  off,  singing,  and  the  clear  carolling  con- 
tinued to  float  down  the  stairs  and  through  the 
windows.  Now,  it  was  the  rollicking  air  that  went 
so  naturally  with  her  swift  movements  that  she 
fell  into  it  involuntarily  when  making  ready  for 
what  she  named  aptly  "a  jolly  lark": 

"'Fly  to  the  desert,  fly  with  me!'" 

The  last  verse  was  warbled  as  she  presented  her- 
self again  below-stairs: 

"  'But  if  for  me  thou  dost  forsake 
Some  other  maid,  and  rudely  break 
Her  worshipped  image  from  its  base 
To  give  to  me  the  ruined  place — 
Then  fare  thee  well !    I'd  rather  make 
My  bower  upon  some  icy  lake, 
When  thawing  suns  begin  to  shine, 
Than  trust  to  love  so  false  as  thine!' " 


202       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

"Did  it  ever  occur  to  you,"  Madam  Carrington 
lifted  a  face  as  bright  as  the  day  as  she  spoke,  "  that 
the  Arabian  lovers  had  never  seen,  or  so  much  as 
heard  of, '  an  icy  lake '  ?  There  are  no  ice-ponds  in 
the  desert." 

"Poetical  license!"  commented  Mr.  Rice,  who 
stood,  awaiting  his  fair  companion,  whip  and  hat 
in  hand.  "The  wind  and  sun  of  yesterday  have 
made  the  roads  quite  tolerable,  so  Joe  tells  me.  It 
would  be  a  shame  to  get  the  new ' toggery'  muddy ! " 

The  dark-green  cloth  habit  and  cap  to  match 
became  the  wearer  well.  Her  cheeks  were  flushed 
like  damask  roses;  her  eyes  shone  like  stars.  The 
two  women  who  loved  her  exchanged  glances  that 
said  this  and  more. 

"We  will  go  around  to  the  front  porch  and  see 
you  off!"  proposed  the  grandmother,  laying  aside 
her  knitting. 

Two  stable-boys  held  the  horses  at  the  foot  of 
the  steps.  Helen  kissed  her  grandmother,  then 
wrapped  Beth  in  a  tight  embrace. 

"Good-by,  darling  little  mother!  Yes!  I  mean 
to  say  it  when  there  are  only  ourselves  by !  Mr. 
Rice  is  one  of  us !" 

She  was  in  the  saddle  and  cantering  down  the 
avenue  before  Beth  found  voice  and  composure. 
Madam  put  her  arm  about  the  slender  form. 

"That  is  as  it  should  be !  And  very  soon,  please 
God,  she  may  take  the  name  into  constant  use!" 

They  stood,  watching  the  riders  until  they  gained 
the  outer  gate.  It  was  a  quarter-mile  away,  but 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       203 

i 

the  air  was  crystalline  clear  after  the  storm,  and 
they  saw  distinctly  the  farewell  wave  of  Helen's 
whip,  brandished  high  above  her  head. 

"She  is  very  happy!"  Madam  said,  as  they 
returned  to  the  vine-curtained  nook.  "I  knew  how 
it  would  be.  We  are  all  unspeakably  grateful  to 
you,  dear  child !" 

"To  me?  For  what?"  The  ejaculation  escaped 
Beth's  lips  before  she  had  time  to  take  in  the  full 
meaning  of  the  words.  Then,  her  blush  was  as 
vivid  as  Helen's  might  have  been,  and  she  was 
dumb. 

Madam  drew  her  closer  to  her. 

"We  hope  to  show  you  why  in  the  days  to  come. 
What  a  perfect  day !  And  what  a  beautiful  world ! 
Mother  Nature  is  making  up  to  us  for  the  August 
storm.  Every  flower  that  could  open  is  blooming, 
and  every  bird  that  has  any  pretension  to  a  voice 
is  singing." 

They  sat,  without  speaking  or  moving  for  a  while, 
their  senses  drinking  hi  the  influences  of  scene  and 
atmosphere. 

Mr.  Rice  had  once  said  that  the  High  Hill  home- 
stead always  reminded  him  of  a  queen  sitting  upon 
her  throne  like  a  "lady  among  kingdoms."  It  over- 
looked the  countryside  for  miles  in  every  direction, 
and  there  was  not  a  blot  in  the  picture  this  morning. 
The  mistress  of  the  goodly  domain  spoke  again  in 
the  pure  contralto  age  and  sorrow  had  not  thinned 
or  sharpened : 

"Old  Simeon's  'Nunc  Dimittis'  is  continually 


204       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

in  my  heart,  and  trembling  upon  my  tongue.  I  never 
imagined  that  I  could  be  so  entirely  contented  on 
this  side  of  eternity.  If  I  were  asked  this  hour  what 
other  blessing  I  could  desire,  I  could  not  name  one. 
The  waiting-time  was  long.  I  used  to  cry  out  in 
the  night-tune:  'Oh,  Lord,  how  long?  How  long?' 
He  has  rendered  to  me  double  for  all  the  pain,  the 
losses,  the  shame,  and  the  horror." 

Beth's  soft  hand  stole  into  hers. 

"Dear  mother!  we  will  try  to  help  you  forget 
it  all.  Our  faces  are  set  toward  the  future.  Did 
you  notice  that  Helen  looked  like  her  father  as 
she  kissed  us  'good-by'  just  now?  I  have  seen 
the  resemblance  often  lately.  I  think  it  will  grow 
upon  her  with  time.  With  all  her  girlish  rattle  she 
has  her  father's  sound  sense  and  incorruptible  prin- 
ciples. The  foundation  of  her  character  is  all  right. 
And  she  is  the  life  of  the  old  house." 

"That  foundation  has  been  the  mainstay  of  my 
hopes  for  her  when  she  has  reminded  me  horribly 
of  her  mother.  I  mean  all  that  the  word  implies. 
Daughter!  in  all  my  long  and  eventful  life  I  have 
never  been  so  unhappy  as  to  be  brought  into  intimate 
association  with  another  being  who  might  be  de- 
scribed truthfully  as  a  'thoroughpaced  adventuress.' 
It  is  a  hard  saying,  I  know!" — for  Beth  had  ex- 
claimed in  deprecation  or  entreaty — "a  hard  saying, 
but  true,  through  and  through.  It  is  but  natural 
that  I  should  have  fearful  misgivings  when  I  see 
anything  of  the  mother  repeated  in  the  child.  I  am 
thankful  that  with  all  my  belief  in  blood  and  ances- 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       205 

tral  influences,  my  faith  in  the  redeeming  powers 
of  breeding  and  early  education  is  stronger.  The 
dear  Lord,  in  wisdom  and  mercy,  ordained  that 
you  should  be  given  the  chance  to  counteract  the 
workings  of  the  evil  inheritance.  You  have  been 
really  the  child's  mother  all  her  life.  I  thank  God 
that  you  are  to  be  her  mother  in  name  as  well.  I 
say  again,  and  reverently — that  the  world  does  not 
hold  to-day  a  woman  who  has  more  cause  for  de- 
vout thankfulness  than  myself." 

Beth's  head  sank  upon  the  hand  closed  within 
hers  on  the  arm  of  Madam's  chair. 

"I  can  say  the  same  for  myself — and  from  my 
very  soul!"  she  murmured.  "Surely  goodness  and 
mercy  shall  follow  me  all  the  days  of  my  life!  And 
this  latest  gift  is  the  crown  of  it  all !" 

The  echo  of  the  thanksgiving  was  still  in  the  air 
when  Tom  loomed  into  view  at  the  bottom  of  the 
steps: 

"Ef  you  please,  mistis,  Doctor  Graham  is  comin' 
down  de  road.  Shall  I  bring  him  outcher?" 

Madam  rolled  up  her  knitting  and  put  it  into  the 
basket  on  the  stand  beside  her. 

"Certainly,  Tom.    Bring  him  here  at  once." 

Brisk  footfalls  rang  upon  the  porch-floor  and 
the  ladies  stepped  forward  to  greet  a  man  of  forty- 
five,  alert  and  fresh-colored,  with  lively  eyes  and  a 
shrewd,  kindly  expression.  He  was  clean-shaven 
except  for  a  pair  of  neatly  trimmed  mutton-chop 
whiskers,  and  in  apparel  was  just  what  the  popular 
country  doctor  of  the  day  should  be.  Black  frock- 


206       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

coat,  white  pantaloons,  waistcoat,  and  cravat,  were 
impeccable  in  quality,  cut,  and  cleanliness. 

"  'Looks  as  if  he  had  stepped  out  of  a  bandbox,' 
did  you  say?"  Helen  had  retorted  upon  a  girl 
friend  at  the  Carters'  party.  "You  mean  a  tailor's 
show-case.  He  would  have  been  creased  somewhere 
in  packing  him  into  the  bandbox.  I  could  show  you 
his  double  in  a  window  in  Chestnut  Street,  Phila- 
delphia." 

Madam  Carrington  had  silenced  a  man  who 
spoke  of  her  physician  as  "dandified,"  by  observing 
quietly  that  he  was  "as  neat  inside  as  out,  and 
that  a  doctor  could  not  be  too  careful  as  to  per- 
sonal cleanliness.  She  had  known  of  some  who 
conveyed  contagious  diseases  in  their  clothing  and 
hair." 

Scientific  journals  were  just  beginning  to  hint 
at  the  "germ  theory,"  and  Madam  had  never  heard 
of  it.  Common  sense  and  womanly  instinct  made 
her  wiser  than  her  age. 

"I  have  come  straight  from  the  poorhouse,"  the 
physician  stated  when  the  preliminary  courtesies 
were  over.  "In  compliance  with  your  wishes  I 
have  informed  the  overseer  that  the  physician  em- 
ployed by  the  county  to  visit  the  paupers  has  no 
jurisdiction  over  a  patient  in  a  private  family  such 
as  his  own.  I  found  him  entirely  amenable  to  reason. 
Indeed,  he  was  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  express 
his  uneasiness  at  the  patient's  condition  and  his 
dissatisfaction  at  her  progress,  or  rather,  want  of 
progress,  under  the  care  of  the  only  doctor  who  had 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       207 

seen  her.  To  be  brief — I  found  matters  far  more 
serious  than  I  had  expected.  The  person  who  calls 
herself  'Mary  Watkins'  (and  I  believe  truthfully) 
is  critically,  if  not  hopelessly,  ill.  I  doubt  if  she  can 
live  a  week  under  existing  conditions.  The  Blan- 
kenships  are  kind  in  their  way,  although,  to  speak 
openly,  I  can  see  that  the  wife  is  very  'tired  of  the 
whole  business.'  That  was  the  way  she  put  it  to 
me.  The  patient  is  more  troublesome  as  she  loses 
strength,  and  irritable  at  times.  When  her  mind 
wanders,  as  it  does  with  the  rise  of  fever  that  never 
quite  leaves  her,  she  is  unreasonable  and  exacting. 
Now  that  she  is  confined  to  her  bed — and  such  a 
bed! — a  mountain  of  musty  feathers  and  coarse 
cotton  sheets ! — she  requires  more  care  than  Mrs. 
Blankenship  can  spare  time  to  give  her,  and  she 
objects  violently  to  having  the  pauper  women  wait 
upon  her.  She  told  me  that  'they  poison  the  air, 
and  their  hands  are  filthy.'  Moreover — and  this 
is  the  worst  feature  of  the  case ! — she  has  been  for 
years  addicted  to  the  use  of  opium.  She  brought 
a  quantity  of  the  drug  with  her.  The  overseer  says 
she  can't  sleep  without  what  he  calls  her  'sleeping 
medicine.'  The  truth  is,  that  she  is  continually 
under  the  influence  of  the  opiate,  more  or  less.  For 
twelve  hours  past  she  has  lain  for  most  of  the  time 
in  what  we  know  as  a  'comLtose  state,'  induced 
partly,  no  doubt,  by  the  drug,  but  it  also  indicates 
a  gradual  failing  of  bodily  and  mental  forces.  She 
can  never  get  well.  That  is  beyond  dispute.  She 
has  led  a  hard  life" — glancing  furtively  at  Beth,  and 


208       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

picking  his  phraseology  gingerly — "and  is  paying 
the  penalty.  Without  going  into  particulars,  my 
dear  Madam,  you  may  take  my  word  for  that.  Her 
vitality,  which  was  extraordinary  originally,  is  ut- 
terly exhausted.  If  she  had  no  disease,  she  could 
not  rally.  There  is  nothing  left  to  build  convales- 
cence upon.  You  asked  me  to  make  a  thorough 
examination  of  the  case,  and  to  render  a  candid 
report  to  you.  I  have  done  it.  You  may,  of  course, 
call  in  a  consulting  physician.  His  verdict  could 
not  differ  from  mine.  The  case  is  beyond  the  reach 
of  human  skill." 

Madam  Carrington  seemed  to  turn  to  stone  as 
she  listened.  Her  face  was  bloodless;  her  voice, 
when  she  had  cleared  her  throat  to  make  way  for 
it,  was  strained  and  hollow. 

"Doctor  Graham!  this  is  the  most  awful  thing 
I  ever  heard!  It  cannot  go  on,  if  I  have  to  go  to 
that  place  and  nurse  her  myself !  My  son  brought 
no  such  report.  Why,  doctor,  her  mother  was  my 
schoolmate  and  lifelong  neighbor,  and  this  girl  used 
to  play  with  my  children  and  attended  our  church ! 
Would  it  be  possible  to  move  her?  Could  you  ar- 
range to  have  her  brought  to  my  house?  Would 
it  hasten  the  end?  What  have  we  been  thinking 
of  all  this  time?  I  never  dreamed  that  she  was 
dangerously  ill !  What  can  we  do  for  her  at  once  ? 
We  must  not  lose  a  minute ! " 

"Compose  yourself,  my  dear  Madam,  I  entreat 
you!  Let  me  think!  The  idea  of  removal  never 
occurred  to  me." 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       209 

He  stroked  his  whiskers  meditatively  and  peered 
into  the  depths  of  the  matted  vines.  Madam  sat 
perfectly  still,  her  gaze  riveted  upon  his  face,  her 
knuckles  whitening  under  the  clutch  of  the  fingers. 
The  clear  pallor  of  Beth's  complexion  and  the  mute 
horror  of  her  eyes  betokened  complete  sympathy 
with  her  friend's  anguish. 

"Do  I  understand  then,"  began  the  doctor  slowly, 
as  if  dubious  of  his  ground,  "that  you  really  wish 
to  bring  the  patient  to  High  Hill?  To  be  cared 
for  until  the  end  comes?  It  cannot  be  far  off,  you 
know.  It  would  be  possible  to  construct  a  sort  of 
stretcher  and  fit  it  diagonally  into  a  large  car- 
riage." 

Madam  caught  him  up:  "Mine?  Yes,  I  can  see 
how  that  may  be.  I  brought  Mr.  Rice  from  The 
Glebe  in  that  way.  Go  on,  please !  Can  it  be  done 
in  the  present  case?  There  are  boards  in  the  car- 
penter's shop  and  he  can  put  them  together  in  any 
shape  you  wish.  I  will  send  pillows  and  comfort- 
ables— everything  necessary,  if  you  will  give  the 
orders.  I  will  put  a  boy  on  horseback  and  let  him 
take  a  letter  from  you  to  Blankenship,  with  direc- 
tions for  getting  the  poor  girl  ready.  It  is  now  ten 
o'clock.  You  will  stay  here  to  dinner,  doctor,  and 
we  can  set  out  by  two." 

She  was  on  her  feet  and  rang  the  stable-bell  at- 
tached to  the  far  end  of  the  porch  and  connected 
by  a  long  wire  with  the  wall  behind  her  chair. 

The  clang  awoke  the  doctor  from  partial  stupe- 
faction. He  had  heard  much  of  Madam's  ready 


2io       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

expedients  and  strenuous  measures,  but  this  threw 
his  wits  off  their  balance. 

"Stay,  my  dear  lady!"  he  managed  to  articulate 
when  she  had  bidden  the  groom  who  came  running 
to  obey  the  imperative  summons — "Send  John 
Marsh  here,  directly!  Let  him  drop  everything 
and  come ! " 

John  Marsh  was  the  head  carpenter  of  the  plan- 
tation, as  the  doctor  knew. 

"My  dear  lady"  was  not  to  be  stayed  by  him  or 
any  other  man,  unless  it  were  her  son,  and  he  was 
far  away.  Not  once  did  she  lose  her  head  in  the 
interim  that  elapsed  before  the  doctor  recovered  his. 
By  the  time  he  had  accompanied  the  carpenter  to  the 
shop,  selected  boards  and  issued  explicit  orders  as 
to  fashioning  them  into  a  sort  of  litter,  his  brain 
had  steadied  sufficiently  to  justify  a  second  remon- 
strance. Madam  Carrington  might  send  for  the 
patient.  He  would  escort  the  carriage  to  the  poor- 
house,  superintend  the  removal  of  the  comatose 
woman  to  her  new  quarters,  and  install  her  there- 
in. It  was  worse  than  needless  for  the  hostess  to 
subject  herself  to  the  fatigue  and  responsibility  of 
the  five-mile  drive  to  the  almshouse  and  then  back. 
It  would  be  far  more  prudent  to  send  a  trusty  maid. 
He  poured  all  this  into  the  ears  of  Beth,  who  met 
him  in  the  porch,  grave  and  self-possessed.  She 
heard  him  silently  to  the  end  of  his  protest.  Then 
she  said  quietly: 

"You  are  altogether  right,  doctor.  I  am  going 
in  her  place.  My  own  maid,  who  is  young  and  strong 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       211 

and  a  good  nurse,  goes  with  me.  She  will  be  useful 
in  many  ways.  Mr.  Rice  has  come  home.  He  will 
ride  with  you." 

"I  had  not  thought  it  was  in  her,"  the  doctor 
observed  to  his  companion  pedestrian,  en  route. 
"No  bluster  or  excitement,  but  she  had  every  detail 
arranged.  I  confess  to  some  curiosity  to  know  how 
she  prevailed  upon  Madam  Carrington  to  change 
her  mind." 

"Elizabeth  Moore  has  much  quiet  force  of  char- 
acter," was  the  response,  "and  influence  with 
her  aunt.  She  gently  reminded  her  that  one  of  them 
must  superintend  arrangements  to  be  made  at  home 
for  the  comfort  of  the  invalid,  and  that  the  mistress 
of  the  house  is  the  only  person  who  can  do  this. 
She  succumbed,  as  was  sensible  and  right." 

The  disposition  of  the  improvised  stretcher  in 
the  carriage,  roomy  as  the  conveyance  was,  left 
but  one  corner  vacant  in  which  an  attendant  could 
sit.  The  stretcher  was  padded  with  pillows  and 
comfortables,  and  more  pillows  and  coverings  were 
heaped  about  it.  Mirny,  Beth's  maid,  very  solemn 
in  the  appreciation  of  the  dignity  thrust  upon  her, 
sat  upon  the  box  with  the  driver.  Helen  had  made 
an  opportunity  to  volunteer  a  pledge  to  Beth  to 
be  at  her  grandmother's  beck  and  call,  every  minute 
of  the  afternoon.  She  went  about  the  simple  duties 
that  fell  to  her  with  chastened  soberness,  infinitely 
sweet  and  becoming.  The  announcement  of  the 
expedition  and  its  object  had  astounded  her  and 
amazed  Mr.  Rice. 


212       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

It  was  significant  of  the  thorough  understanding 
on  the  part  of  mother  and  son  that,  after  the  first 
shock  of  the  tidings  of  Molly  Watkins's  arrival  at 
the  poorhouse  had  passed,  there  was  no  avoidance 
of  her  name  in  their  confidential  talks,  or  in  the 
family.  It  was  yet  more  significant  that  Beth  al- 
lowed the  doctor  to  invite  the  minister  to  join  him 
and  thanked  them  both  for  the  arrangement. 

"An  early  dream  and  dead!"  Mahlon  had  said 
to  Paul.  "What  I  loved  was  a  figment  of  fancy. 
I  mourn  the  delusion — not  the  object  of  it.  An 
old,  old  story!  Who  said:  'It  is  not  so  much  a 
broken  heart  you  have  to  grieve  over  as  a  broken 
dream'?" 

Beth  recalled  the  saying  as  the  carriage  rolled 
out  of  the  gate  on  its  mournful  mission.  He  was 
cured,  and  so  completely  that  he  accepted  the  office 
assigned  to  him  as  he  might  have  answered  the  call 
to  visit  a  sick  parishioner.  She  watched  him  for  a 
little  while,  the  benign  face  lighted  by  a  smile,  now 
and  then,  as  his  companion  led  the  talk  into  more 
cheerful  topics  than  that  which  had  engaged  their 
thoughts  for  the  last  hour  or  two.  She  was  at  ease 
with  regard  to  him  as  she  leaned  back  in  her  corner 
and  indulged  hi  meditations  more  to  her  liking. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

AN  ex-President  of  the  United  States — a  Virginian 
by  birth  and  residence — failed  to  please  his  neigh- 
bors and  constituents  in  certain  acts  of  his  adminis- 
tration. Upon  his  return  home  the  malcontents 
hit  upon  what  they  fancied  would  be  a  token  of 
disfavor,  yet  be  so  cleverly  disguised  under  the  mask 
of  an  honorable  appointment  that  he  could  not 
resent  it. 

He  was,  therefore,  made  "road-master"  of  the 
county,  an  office  which  authorized  the  holder  to 
call  out  gangs  of  colored  laborers  from  the  adjacent 
plantations,  at  his  discretion,  to  mend  and  make 
highways.  He  accepted  the  office  graciously,  thank- 
ing his  fellow  citizens  for  the  fresh  evidence  of 
their  esteem,  and  forthwith  proceeded  to  provide 
the  county  with  the  best  roads  in  the  common- 
wealth. To  accomplish  this  end  he  levied  upon 
plantation  field-hands  at  whatever  tune  and  season 
he  chose  to  make  the  demand,  without  regard  to 
planting,  weeding,  or  harvesting.  "His  business 
was  to  make  good  roads,"  he  represented  to  the 
indignant  planters.  "When  the  highways  required 
repairs,  the  public  weal  took  precedence  of  personal 
convenience." 

Under  dissimilar  conditions,  Paul  Carrington,  the 
most  popular  magistrate  in  his  district,  was  ten- 

313 


214       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

dered  and  had  accepted  the  office  of  road-master 
a  dozen  years  ago,  and  performed  the  duties  con- 
nected therewith  so  creditably  that  smooth,  well- 
graded  highways  were  the  rule  throughout  the  terri- 
tory over  which  he  had  jurisdiction. 

Doctor  Graham  had  this  in  mind  in  sanctioning 
the  transfer  of  his  patient  to  new  quarters. 

"A  careful  driver  needn't  hit  a  stone  in  the  five 
miles,"  he  asserted  complacently,  "nor  run  into 
a  mud-hole.  The  road  is  as  smooth  as  a  floor.  We 
know  whom  we  have  to  thank  for  that!" 

Beth  recalled  the  tribute  with  a  glow  of  pleasure 
in  settling  down  luxuriously  among  her  ample 
cushions.  She  reminded  herself  too  that  this  was 
the  first  absolutely  quiet  hour  she  could  call  her 
very  own  for  five  days  past.  Preparations  for  Paul's 
journey  and  the  bustle  of  the  leave-taking  had  kept 
the  household  in  a  ferment  of  unrest.  As  for  her- 
self— she  reflected  now — she  had  not  had  time  to 
take  her  new  wonderful  happiness  to  her  heart  and 
"cuddle"  it.  That  was  the  way  she  phrased  it. 
To  care  for  others  weaker  than  she,  to  comfort  the 
sorrowing,  nurse  the  sick  in  body  and  in  mind — in 
a  word,  to  put  the  welfare  and  woes  of  those  about 
her  before  her  own  affairs — was  the  second  nature 
born  of  habit  that  generally  outgrows  the  first. 

"At  thirty-six,  one  is  no  longer  romantic,"  she 
had  said  once  playfully  to  Helen,  commenting  upon 
a  love-story  they  had  read  together.  She  laughed 
at  the  recollection,  now. 

When,  just  ten  days  ago,  Paul  Carrington  had 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       215 

pleaded,  "And  now,  that  you  know  it  all — my  mad 
follies  and  my  struggles  to  live  down  shameful  memo- 
ries, and  to  make  myself  over  into  the  man  who  has 
some  show  of  right  to  ask  you  to  be  his  wife — can 
you  learn  to  love  me,  Beth?"  she  had  looked,  un- 
abashed, into  his  eyes  and  said: 

"I  ought  to  be  perfect  in  the  lesson.  I  have 
studied  it  for  fifteen  years  and  more." 

She  closed  her  eyes  in  repeating  it  to  herself  now, 
and  dreamed  blissfully — as  she  had  never  dared 
dream  before  in  all  her  life.  She  could  not  tell  just 
when  she  awoke  to  the  consciousness  that  the  man 
who,  she  thought,  was  like  a  brother  to  her,  was 
dearer  than  any  brother  could  ever  have  been,  and 
outranked  all  other  earthly  loves  combined.  Since 
then  she  had  made  no  secret  to  her  candid  soul  of 
the  truth.  The  passion  of  pity  she  had  felt  for  the 
stricken  victim  of  a  wily,  heartless  adventuress,  the 
reverence  strengthened  daily  by  the  sight  of  his 
steadfast  devotion  to  his  mother  and  the  work  he 
shared  with  her;  his  invariable  kindness  to  high 
and  low;  the  perfection  of  breeding  that  never  let 
him  overlook  the  observance  of  the  "small,  sweet 
courtesies"  that  make  the  poetry  of  domestic  life; 
his  patience  under  wrongs  done  to  himself,  and  his 
generous  indignation  at  wrongs  done  to  the  inno- 
cent and  helpless — all  this  and  innumerable  other 
concurrent  circumstances  had  wrought  upon  her 
heart,  soul,  and  mind  to  bring  to  pass  the  miracle 
of  happiness  that  possessed  her  in  the  knowledge 
that  her  demigod  had  become  her  lover. 


2i6       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

What  romance,  ever  conceived  and  written, 
equalled  the  glorious  reality?  She  stanched  happy 
tears  hastily  as  Mr.  Rice  rode  up  to  the  carriage- 
door. 

He  looked  down  instantly,  and  feigned  to  be  in- 
tent upon  guarding  his  horse's  legs  against  impact 
with  the  wheel. 

"We  have  only  half  a  mile  farther  to  go,"  he 
said,  easily.  "We  have  travelled  well.  I  wanted 
to  say  to  you,  before  we  get  to  the  house,  that  you 
must  not  hesitate  to  call  upon  me  for  anything  that 
I  can  do  to  make  all  this  easier  for  you." 

He  leaned  over  the  wheel  to  put  his  hand  on  the 
door,  after  the  fashion  of  the  mounted  escort  of 
the  region,  and  lowered  his  voice: 

"7  should  have  a  share  in  the  business,  you  know. 
We  are  told  that  those  who  sow  the  wind  shall  reap 
the  whirlwind.  I  am  mercifully  let  off  with  what  is 
a  mere  zephyr  by  comparison  with  the  tornado  a 
far  better  man  has  had  to  buffet  for  years.  Set  your 
mind  at  rest  with  regard  to  me.  I  hope  the  trip 
will  not  be  too  much  for  you?" 

"It  has  been  restful — thank  you!  And  all  the 
more  because  you  are  with  us." 

He  lifted  his  hat  and  fell  back  to  the  doctor's 
side. 

Quaint,  plucky,  dear  little  man !  Yet  what  was 
the  mourning  over  his  "broken  dream"  when  one 
thought  of  the  fight  he  had  likened  to  a  tornado 
that  had  swept  over  his  comrade? 

She  thanked  God  again  with  heart  and  voice  for 


THE   CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       217 

the  blessed  calm  that  must  chase  away  the  memory 
of  the  tempest. 

Both  the  Blankenships  were  on  the  lookout  for 
them,  and  hurried  together  to  the  side  of  the  car- 
riage as  it  stopped  at  the  gate. 

The  wife  was  foremost  in  explanation  of  condi- 
tions that  awaited  the  visitors: 

"She's  been  that  dreadful  ever  sence  she  heard 
that  she  was  to  be  took  away,  that  I  was  afeared 
we  couldn't  git  her  ready,  nohow  we  could  fix  it. 
Fust  place,  she  declared  she  wouldn't  budge  a  step ! 
That  was  when  I  had  jest  shook  her  awake,  and 
she  was  out  of  her  head  for  a  while.  Then  when 
she  heered  whar  she  was  to  be  took,  she  laughed 
and  cried  for  nigh  upon  five  minnits  and  we  jest 
was  obleeged  to  give  her  a  good  stiff  drink  of  brandy 
to  git  her  quiet.  Yes,  doctor!  I  knowed  you 
wouldn't  like  it!  But  what  was  we  to  do?  She 
mus'  be  heished  up  in  some  way.  'Light!  won't 
you,  Miss  'Lizabeth ! "  removing  her  bulk  from  the 
open  door  that  Beth  might  get  out.  "An'  come 
right  in !  She's  quiet  now." 

"Dead  drunk,  you  mean!"  said  her  husband, 
crossly.  "I  told  her  how  'twould  be,  doctor,  when 
she  would  pour  out  the  liquor  for  her,  instid  of  lettin' 
me  do  it.  Not  but  what  it  will  be  easier  to  tote  her 
to  the  carriage,  an'  out  of  it  if  the  drunk  hoi's  on 
that  long.  She  mought  'a'  raised  a  rumpus  ef  she 
had  any  notion  of  what  we  was  doin'  with  her." 

Doctor  Graham  walked  on  with  him  in  close  con- 
fabulation as  they  skirted  the  main  building  to  gain 


218       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

the  wing.  Mrs.  Blankenship  kept  her  post  at  Beth's 
ear  and  talked  her  fastest: 

"She  ain't  a-goin'  to  live  long  nowhere,  and  I'm 
mighty  glad  to  git  shet  of  her,  for  my  part.  She's 
been  the  biggest  keer  I've  ever  had — an'  you  may 
know  keepin'  a  po'house  ain't  no  fun  at  any  time. 
'Slong  as  she  knowed  what  she  was  about,  I  could 
manage  her  a  little.  But  for  the  las'  week — well, 
thar!  Thar  ain't  no  use  tryin'  to  tell  you  'bout  it. 
Me  an'  Sukey  Logan,  we  done  packed  up  all  her 
clo'es  in  her  trunk,  an'  put  clean  clo'es  on  her.  She 
was  like  somebody  dead  while  we  was  doin'  of  it. 
Rashe,  he  scolded  me  for  the  big  dose  o'  liquor. 
/  say  'twould  'a'  served  him  right  not  to  have  give 
it  to  her  at  all,  an'  let  him  git  her  ready  an'  off!" 
She  glanced  up  at  Mr.  Rice  in  saying  it,  and  cackled 
aloud. 

He  turned  on  his  heel,  walked  away  a  dozen  steps 
or  so,  and  stood  there,  staring  stonily  over  the  fields. 
Beth  forgot  her  own  horror  and  dreads  in  sympathy 
with  the  frightful  reaction  that  must  supersede  his 
quiet  self-possession.  This  drunken  castaway  was 
the  woman  he  had  once  loved.  Why  had  she — why 
had  Madam  Carrington  let  him  come? 

The  low-browed  room  reeked  with  brandy  fumes 
and  foetid  odors.  The  doctor  rushed  to  both  win- 
dows and  pulled  aside  the  curtains  to  let  in  all  the 
air  they  would  admit.  The  bedstead  had  been 
dragged  into  the  middle  of  the  floor  and  stripped 
of  all  covering,  revealing  the  soiled  ticking  of  the 
feather-bed,  swelling  above  the  form  sunk  hi  the 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       219 

middle.  It  might  have  been  a  corpse  but  for  the 
irregular,  stertorous  respiration.  Mr.  Rice  startled 
them  all  by  speaking  from  the  door: 

"Doctor  Graham!  shall  I  have  the  stretcher 
brought  in  here?" 

"At  once — please!  the  sooner  we  are  off,  the 
better!" 

Even  the  Blankenships  were  mute  until  the  bearers 
of  the  litter — Aleck,  the  High  Hill  carriage-driver, 
and  a  colored  pauper — appeared  upon  the  porch. 
Then  Rashe  bustled  out  to  lend  a  hand.  Mr.  Rice 
followed  him  into  the  room  and  pushed  aside  the 
negro  who  would  have  raised  the  recumbent  figure. 
He  said  not  a  word,  but  Beth  never  forgot  the  face 
turned  away  with  averted  eyes  from  the  "thing" 
he  helped  Doctor  Graham  shift  from  the  bed  to 
the  litter.  She  followed  them  closely.  One  horri- 
fied glance  at  the  face — wasted  almost  out  of  sem- 
blance to  a  human  visage,  darkly  flushed  by  brandy, 
eyes  closed,  and  mouth  open — turned  her  sick  to 
faintness.  She  hardly  knew  who  or  where  she  was 
as  she  walked  in  the  wake  of  the  short  procession 
to  the  waiting  carriage.  Mirny  brought  her  back 
to  herself  and  the  present. 

"Miss  'Lizabeth!  you  ain't  never  goin'  to  ride 
inside  the  carriage  with  that!  'Tain't  fitten,  no  way 
you  can  fix  it!  Mr.  Rice!  please,  suh!"  as  he  let 
himself  down  from  the  carriage-steps  after  the  litter 
with  its  burden  had  been  set  in  place,  "won't  you 
persuade  Miss  'Lizabeth  not  to  get  in  there?  Let 
me  do  it,  and  she  won't  min'  for  onct,  a-settin'  out- 


220       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

side  with  Aleck!  I  don't  know  what  mistis  will 
say  ef  so  be  we  'low  a  white  lady  to  ride  'longside 
of  that!" 

A  gesture  of  intense  loathing  finished  the  protest. 

Before  Mr.  Rice  could  speak,  Beth  moved  forward 
and  put  her  foot  upon  the  step: 

"It  is  my  place!  Nobody  else  shall  have  it! 
Should  she  need  attention  I  will  call  you,  Mirny — 
or  Doctor  Graham.  Good-by,  Mrs.  Blankenship ! " 
She  put  her  hand  into  that  extended  by  Betsey, 
who,  for  once  in  her  life,  was  awed  into  silence.  "I 
thank  you  for  all  you  have  done  for  us  in  taking 
care  of  her !  Good-by,  Mr.  Blankenship !  No ! 
Mr.  Rice !  there  is  not  room  for  more  than  one  per- 
son in  here — thank  you,  all  the  same !" 

"Game  to  the  back-bone!"  ejaculated  Rashe,  as 
he  returned  to  his  waiting  spouse  after  seeing  the 
cortege  through  the  draw-bars.  "I  never  would  'a' 
thought  'twas  in  her !  Reckon  she  caught  her  sperrit 
from  the  old  Madam.  I  wisht  I  could  'a'  gone  along 
and  seed  'em  git  her  out  o'  the  car'iage  at  High 
Hill.  I  dar'  swar  that  no  sech  trash  ever  crossed 
that  door-sill  befo'  sence  the  house  was  built!" 

"They']],  git  the  credit  of  it,  you  may  be  sure!" 
retorted  Betsey,  tartly.  "Let  these  'ristocrats  alone 
for  takin'  all  the  comfortin'  Scripters  to  theirselves ! 
'bout  feedin'  the  poor  and  rescuin'  the  perishin', 
an'  all  that !  The  ole  Madam  will  be  talked  about 
an*  preached  about  after  she's  dead  an'  gone,  for 
openin'  her  doors  to  the  chile  of  her  ole  frien'.  We've 
been  a-nussin'  her,  an'  puttin'  up  with  her  high- 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       221 

'n'-mighty  ways  for  nigh  'pon  two  mont's,  without 
gittin'  a  penny  for  it.  An'  that  meachin'  little  thing 
that  would  git  into  the  car'iage  with  her — for  to  show 
off  befo'  the  doctor  and  the  preacher — will  be  called 
a  saint  'long's  she  lives.  Ef  them  ain't  Pharisees 
an'  highpercreets,  I  don'  know  the  breed  when  I 
see  it!" 

Rashe  held  his  peace  even  from  the  good  that 
might  have  resulted  from  the  exhibition  of  a  bank- 
bill  passed  over  to  him  by  Mr.  Rice,  with  Madam 
Carrington's  thanks  for  the  care  he  had  bestowed 
upon  the  daughter  of  her  old  friends.  He  was  en- 
joined to  secrecy  at  the  same  time. 

"You  may  know  that  she  lives  up  to  the  rule 
'Let  not  your  right  hand  know  what  your  left  hand 
doeth,'"  the  minister  had  added  in  the  same  con- 
fidential tone.  "She  had  no  idea  that  the  patient 
was  really  dangerously  ill  until  the  doctor  called 
this  morning.  When  Mr.  Carrington  was  here  last, 
you  spoke  hopefully  of  her." 

"That's  a  fac' !  So  I  did !"  replied  the  overseer. 
"She  was  that  gayly  and  peart  when  she  warn't 
downright  sick,  that  we'd  no  notion  things  was  so 
bad.  The  doctor  gives  her  up,  he  tells  me.  Her 
goin'  away  saves  the  county  a  bill  for  the  fun'ral. 
'Tain't  noways  likely  as  Madam  would  have  her 
buried  from  High  Hill  at  the  public  expense!" 

The  minister  turned  away  without  another  word. 
Was  the  suggestion,  conjoined  with  the  "broken 
dream,"  harrowing  even  to  a  "cured"  lover? 

Doctor  Graham  was  inclined  to  be  loquacious  for 


222       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

the  first  mile  or  two  of  the  homeward  journey.  The 
experience  he  was  now  going  through  was  novel, 
and  he  rather  enjoyed  it,  never  having  known  the 
principal  actress  in  the  drama  in  her  bellehood.  At 
that  time,  he  was  a  medical  student  at  the  univer- 
sity, and  never  at  home  except  in  vacation.  If  he 
had  ever  seen  Molly  Watkins  it  was  in  his  callow 
boyhood,  when  pretty  girls  were  less  interesting 
than  baseball  and  fishing.  Nor  had  he  ever  heard 
so  much  as  a  whisper  connecting  her  name  with 
that  of  the  retired  minister  who  now  officiated  as 
the  High  Hill  chaplain  and  family  friend. 

Mirny  and  Aleck  carried  on  an  animated  dialogue 
in  whispers  upon  the  driver's  box,  and  each  primed 
the  other  with  gossip  anent  the  "po 'house"  and 
the  horde  of  residents  they  had  espied  peeping  from 
divers  hiding-places  at  the  sensational  spectacle 
enacted  in  the  front  yard. 

Within  the  vehicle  reigned  silence  that  might  be 
felt.  Beth  had  thrown  herself  valiantly  into  the 
forefront  of  the  contest  relative  to  the  change  in 
the  programme  decided  upon  by  Madam  Carring- 
ton  and  herself,  and  had  won  her  point.  At  heart, 
she  abhorred  the  task  she  had  undertaken  as  Mad- 
am's representative.  After  ensconcing  herself  in 
the  corner  left  for  her,  she  gave  one  look  at  her  mo- 
tionless companion  to  make  sure  that  she  seemed 
as  comfortable  as  was  possible  in  the  extraordinary 
circumstances;  then  she  leaned  back  and  shut  her 
eyes.  She  had  heard  that  the  sick  woman  was  an 
opium-eater.  That  she  should  also  be  a  common 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       223 

drunkard  was  inexpressibly  revolting.  She  did  not 
wish  that  the  hospitality  of  High  Hill  had  been 
denied  to  the  prodigal.  She  was  in  full  accord  with 
Madam's  impulsive  benevolence,  and  ready  to  bear 
her  share  of  the  cross.  She  did  shrink  from  actual 
contact  with  the  sinner  when  she  was  vulgarly  and 
indubitably  drunk!  Chide  the  feeling  as  she  might 
and  did,  every  virtuous  and  womanly  instinct  arose 
in  arms  against  the  necessity  of  sitting  so  close  to 
the  woman  that  the  skirt  of  her  white  dress  mingled 
with  the  folds  of  the  shawl  thrown  over  the  patient's 
lower  limbs. 

The  face  was  turned  quite  away  toward  the  other 
side  of  the  coach.  Beth  was  thankful  for  that.  A 
single  look  at  it,  as  she  entered  that  mean  room, 
had  been  too  much  for  her.  One  hand  lay  limp  and 
motionless  upon  the  cover.  Beth  would  have  said 
that  her  eye  fell  upon  it,  by  and  by,  by  the  merest 
accident.  It  was  emaciated  until  the  bones  showed 
white  and  stark  through  the  skin  strained  over  them. 
One,  on  the  outer  side  of  the  wrist,  stood  out  in  un- 
natural prominence.  Just  below  this,  a  white  line — 
a  cicatrice  paler  than  the  sallow  cuticle  surrounding 
it — perhaps  the  eighth  of  an  inch  wide — ran  clear 
across  the  back  of  the  wrist,  terminating  abruptly 
and  squarely  there.  After  staring  at  it  for  a  mo- 
ment as  a  fascinated  bird  gazes  into  the  snake's 
eyes,  Beth  leaned  forward  and  took  the  wasted 
wrist  into  her  hand,  shuddering  as  she  touched  it. 
It  was  hot  and  dry  and  a  mere  bundle  of  sinew  and 
bone.  It  was  delicately  shaped;  the  fingers  were 


224       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

long  and  tapering.  The  vague  sense  of  familiarity 
with  it,  that  laid  hold  upon  her  at  sight  of  the  scar, 
deepened  and  took  form.  Of  one  thing  she  felt  sure. 
This  was  not  Mary  Watkins's  hand !  It  was  smaller, 
more  refined  hi  contour  and  in  the  texture  of  the 
skin,  and  there  was  no  such  mark  upon  poor  Molly's 
wrist.  True,  it  might  be  the  trace  of  a  wound  made 
since  her  elopement.  Doctor  Graham  had  alluded 
to  her  hard  life.  The  thought  that  had  stabbed 
Beth  at  first  sight  of  it  was  too  preposterous  to  be 
remembered  for  an  instant.  She  was  angry  with 
herself  for  having  allowed  it  to  shoot  across  her 
mind.  With  an  ejaculation  of  self-disgust,  she  pulled 
the  shawl  over  the  moveless  hand,  and  withdrew 
as  far  as  space  would  allow  from  her  obnoxious  fel- 
low-tenant of  the  coach. 

The  journey  was,  of  necessity,  more  tedious  than 
the  brisk  run  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  day.  Aleck 
had  had  his  orders  to  avoid  jar  and  jolt,  and  obeyed 
to  the  letter. 

"We  might  be  a  funeral  procession!"  said  Beth, 
more  impatiently  than  she  was  wont  to  speak,  as 
Doctor  Graham  peered  into  the  window  for  the 
fifth  time,  to  see  for  himself  that  the  patient  was 
quiet.  "Is  it  absolutely  necessary  that  we  should 
drive  all  the  way  at  this  rate?  I  don't  believe  she 
knows  whether  we  go  fast  or  slowly." 

"She  will  probably  remain  in  her  present  con- 
dition for  hours  to  come,"  was  the  rejoinder,  "if 
indeed  she  ever  rallies  from  it.  That  fool  of  a  woman 
overdosed  her  with  a  vengeance!  If  she  were  not 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       225 

used  to  it,  the  'dram'  would  be  fatal  in  her  present 
state." 

He  made  no  pretense  of  guarding  tone  or  language. 
That  he  had  judged  correctly  of  the  condition  of 
the  subject  of  the  observation  was  proved  by  the 
lax  stillness  of  the  prostrate  figure. 

A  wave  of  remorseful  pity  rushed  over  Beth's 
heart. 

"Oh,  I  am  sorry  I  complained!"  she  said, peni- 
tently. "Don't  hurry,  please!  I  am  quite  com- 
fortable. Don't  run  any  risk  of  making  her  worse ! " 

The  doctor  shrugged  his  shoulders  with  a  wry 
smile,  in  falling  to  the  rear.  Beth  settled  back  in 
her  corner,  wrapped  in  gloomy  meditations  that 
were  now  mixed  with  self-reproach.  She,  who  only 
that  morning  had  declared  herself  to  be  the  hap- 
piest of  women,  could  be  as  fretful  as  a  spoiled  child 
set  to  perform  a  disagreeable  task,  when  opportunity 
was  offered  her  to  minister  to  another  woman,  help- 
less, poor,  and  sick  unto  death.  Sitting  in  the  very 
shadow  of  that  death,  she  had  thought,  not  of 
prayer  or  compassion,  but  of  her  own  selfish  ease ! 

"God  forgive  me,  and  let  me  help  her  in  some 
way  before  she  goes !"  she  whispered,  and  bent  over 
the  litter  to  adjust  the  pillow  that  had  slipped  from 
under  the  woman's  cheek. 

As  she  stooped  she  felt  the  hot  breath,  foul  with 
liquor,  upon  her  face,  and,  in  the  horror  of  the  mo- 
ment, her  hand  dropped  nerveless  to  her  side,  drag- 
ging the  pillow  with  it.  The  head,  jarred  by  the 
motion,  rolled  partly  over,  and  the  bleared  eyes 


226       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

opened.  In  an  agony  of  haste  and  alarm,  Beth 
slipped  her  arm  under  the  heavy  head  and  replaced 
the  pillow.  In  doing  it,  she  spoke  reassuringly  in 
her  gentlest  tone: 

"There!  Is  that  all  right  again?  Is  it  quite 
easy?" 

Dull-red  fire  burned  back  of  the  eyes;  the  dried 
lips  tried  to  frame  articulate  words. 

"Don't  try  to  speak !"  pursued  Beth,  smiling  into 
the  working  face.  "Just  lie  still  and  try  to  sleep 
a  little  longer.  We  have  not  far  to  go  now." 

The  eyes  were  wide  open  and  the  evil  gleam  in 
their  depths  was  a  glare.  A  hiss  escaped  from  the 
writhing  lips.  Beth  laid  her  ear  low  to  catch  it. 

"Beth  Moore!"  she  caught,  and  waited  breath- 
lessly for  what  came  next — one  word  at  a  time,  each 
gasped,  as  with  a  parting  breath: 

"You  shan't  marry  Paul  Carrington!" 

With  the  supreme  effort  that  brought  out  the 
final  syllable,  the  head  fell  to  one  side,  the  eyes 
rolled  back  in  the  sockets. 

Beth  never  knew  whence  she  drew  the  strength 
that  enabled  her  to  call  Doctor  Graham.  Stunned 
into  unnatural  composure,  she  watched  him  try  to 
pour  restoratives  down  the  woman's  throat,  and, 
at  his  behest,  herself  bathed  her  face  with  water 
and  fanned  her  until  a  flutter  of  the  pulse  and  a 
struggle  for  breath  told  that  the  swoon  was  passing. 

"A  damnable  business!"  Beth  heard  the  doctor 
mutter,  savagely.  "She  isn't  worth  it!" 

Then,   with   the  peremptoriness   that   sank   the 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       227 

gentleman  in  the  physician,  he  bade  Mirny  mount 
his  horse,  installed  Beth  in  the  seat  vacated  by  the 
maid,  and  took  her  place  inside  of  the  carriage. 

With  it  all,  he  made  time  for  an  aside  to  Mr. 
Rice: 

"Let  Aleck  take  your  horse,  and  do  you  drive 
the  rest  of  the  way !  And  keep  an  eye  upon  that 
poor  child.  The  shock  has  been  too  much  for  her. 
The  fresh  air  may  save  her  from  faulting.  But 
watch  her,  as  for  your  life !" 


CHAPTER  XVII 

MADAM  CARRINGTON  was  upon  the  front  porch 
with  a  band  of  sable  attendants,  when  four  stalwart 
field-hands  bore  their  burden  up  the  steps  and  were 
directed  by  the  mistress  to  carry  it  into  the 
Chamber. 

In  one  instant  Beth's  quick  wits  comprehended 
why  Madam  had  acquiesced  so  readily  in  the  al- 
tered plan  submitted  by  her  chief  helpers.  Neither 
Beth  nor  Mr.  Rice  would  have  consented,  without 
vigorous  demur,  to  turning  the  most  important  room 
in  the  house  into  a  hospital  ward,  and,  by  the  desecra- 
tion, depriving  the  head  of  the  family  of  her  own 
quarters.  The  bearers  had  received  their  orders 
beforehand,  for  they  marched  with  military  pre- 
cision into  the  hall  and  faced  about  at  the  threshold 
of  the  open  door.  The  curtains  had  been  taken 
down  from  the  bed  and  the  snow-white  covers  were 
turned  down  ready  for  immediate  use. 

Not  one  of  the  amazed  trio  of  spectators  had  tune 
to  speak  before  the  insensible  woman  was  laid  upon 
the  bed  and  Madam  was  adjusting  the  pillows. 

" Mother!"  The  cry  was  Beth's  as  she  grasped 
the  lady's  arm.  "This  ought  not  to  be !  I  thought, 
of  course,  she  would  be  taken  up-stairs.  We  cannot 
let  you  give  up  your  room ! " 

"It  is  my  wish  and  my  pleasure  to  do  it.  A  sick- 

228 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       229 

room  should  always  be  on  the  lower  floor  when  it 
is  practicable  to  do  this.  Be  quiet,  my  child !  Every- 
thing is  arranged  as  it  should  be.  I  have  meant 
this  all  along.  Now,  doctor !"  A  wave  of  the  hand 
dispersed  the  group  of  servants  and  brought  him 
to  her  side.  "Can  she  be  undressed  and  put  to 
bed?  Or  must  we  wait  until  she  is  stronger?" 

"She  rallied  for  a  few  minutes  on  the  road  and 
tried  to  talk,  but  instantly  relapsed  into  the  coma," 
said  the  physician.  "Her  pulse  is  too  weak  for  us 
to  attempt  to  do  more  at  present  than  try  to  stim- 
ulate the  heart-action.  She  may  respond  to  the 
treatment.  She  may  not.  May  I  ask  you,  Madam, 
to  assist  me  ?  Mirny !  we  may  want  you  here.  Miss 
Elizabeth !  you  will  please  me  by  going  to  your  own 
room  and  resting  for  a  couple  of  hours.  Mr.  Rice ! 
should  we  need  you,  we  will  let  you  know." 

Helen  was  at  Beth's  side  and  wound  her  arm 
about  her  as  they  began  the  ascent  of  the  stair- 
case. 

"I  am  not  wanted  there!  I'm  glad  I'm  not!  I 
wouldn't  stay  for  all  the  doctors  in  Christendom, 
when  you,  darling,  look  so  sick  and  faint.  Lean 
hard  on  me,  sweet  mother!  I  could  carry  you  up 
in  my  arms  if  you  would  let  me  try !" 

The  coaxing  accents  and  tender  caressing  were 
better  for  the  tired  listener  than  any  restorative 
in  the  doctor's  portly  saddle-bags.  A  gush  of  natural 
tears  loosened  the  intolerable  tension  of  the  heart- 
strings and  softened  the  hard  lump  in  her  throat. 
She  could  not  speak,  but  when  Helen  led  her  to 


230       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

the  bed  and  with  loving  violence  half-lifted  her 
upon  it,  she  caught  the  girl  to  her  breast  and  wept 
aloud. 

Helen  shut  the  door  and  brought  a  bottle  of 
cologne  to  the  bed,  drenching  her  handkerchief 
with  the  fragrant  fluid,  and  bathing  Beth's  face 
before  uttering  a  syllable.  Intuitively  she  appre- 
ciated that  there  was  something  here  beyond  the 
reach  of  anything  she  could  think  of  saying.  She 
must  keep  before  the  weeper's  mind  the  one  truth 
of  her  love  and  passionate  longing  to  be  of  help  to 
her  in  some  way,  then  trust  to  time  and  her  own 
perceptions  to  indicate  that  way. 

Her  heart  leaped  with  joyful  relief  when  Beth 
dried  her  eyes  and  put  up  her  lips  for  a  kiss.  It 
was  given  with  unction. 

"She  is  tired  to  death — so  she  is!"  Helen  cooed 
anew,  mopping  the  tremulous  hands  with  the  cologne 
and  blowing  lightly  upon  them  to  make  them  cooler 
by  hastening  evaporation.  She  had  learned  the 
trick  from  Beth,  as  the  latter  recollected  with  af- 
fectionate amusement.  It  was  very  sweet  and, 
just  now,  singularly  consoling  to  be  petted  and 
tended  by  Paul's  child. 

She  opened  her  eyes  gratefully  upon  the  solicitous 
face  so  near  hers: 

"Thank  you  for  looking  so  much  like  your  father 
to-day !  It  has  been  a  great  help  to  me.  But,  dar- 
ling, I  have  not  asked  you  all  this  time  where  your 
grandmother  is  to  sleep.  It  is  dreadful  that  she 
should  be  turned  out  of  her  room ! " 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       231 

Helen  nodded  backward  toward  the  hall. 

"In  the  spare-room  over  there!  You  may  know 
that  I  had  a  battle-royal  with  her  before  I  gave 
in  to  the  ridiculous  notion.  She  was  obstinate  to 
the  end.  Gibraltar  is  a  quicksand  by  comparison ! 
She  cannot  forgive  the  doctor  and  father  and,  least 
of  all,  herself  for  not  knowing  how  ill  the  Watkins 
woman  is.  She  says  she  should  have  been  decently 
lodged  and  nursed  ever  since  she  showed  up  at  the 
poorhouse.  But  you'll  hear  the  latest  edition — with 
copious  notes — as  soon  as  she  has  time  to  talk  it  out. 
What  a  crow-bait  of  an  object  the  returned  prodigal 
is,  to  be  sure !  One  glimpse  was  enough  for  me." 

Beth  closed  her  eyes  and  moaned: 

"Don't,  precious  child !  I  can't  bear  to  talk  of  it 
yet.  It  was  all  too  horrible!  I  must  lie  still  and 
try  to  forget  it  until  my  head  gets  clear  and  steady." 

"Which  it  won't  do  while  I  am  chattering  like 
a  poll-parrot !  You  poor  persecuted  angel  of  pa- 
tience!" punctuating  the  sentence  with  soft  kisses 
upon  all  of  Beth's  face  she  could  get  at,  above  and 
below  the  shielding  hands. 

"It  is  high  time  somebody  took  this  matter  in 
hand !  If  father  had  been  here,  none  of  this  abom- 
inable farce  would  have  been  played.  As  next  of 
kin,  I  take  the  helm !  One  fact  remains !  You  are 
to  be  my  especial  charge  from  this  time  hencefor- 
ward until  other  people,  who  shall  be  nameless, 
come  to  their  senses.  I  am  going  to  administer  a 
dose  of  valerian,  then  darken  the  room,  and  com- 
mand you  to  sleep  for  the  next  hour.  And" — dog- 


232       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

gedly — "if,  during  that  time,  man,  woman,  or  child 
invades  these  sacred  precincts,  he,  she,  or  it  enters 
over  my  dead  body !" 

The  loving  nonsense  did  more  to  quiet  the  racked 
nerves  than  reason  could  have  effected.  Beth's 
smile  and  voice  were  natural  as  she  thanked  her 
nurse  and  promised  to  be  obedient. 

"I  must  have  time  to  think  it  all  over,  or  I  shall 
go  mad!"  she  whispered  to  herself  when  the  door 
closed  noiselessly  behind  the  retreating  form. 

Below-stairs,  the  commander  of  the  active  forces 
had  restored  a  show  of  law  and  order.  A  swift 
courier  had  ridden  post-haste  over  to  Doctor  Gra- 
ham's house  to  report  that  he  would  spend  the  night 
at  High  Hill  unless  summoned  thence  by  another 
"  extreme  case."  The  patient  was  in  bed,  and,  al- 
though the  coma  still  held  her,  breathed  more  easily; 
the  heart  had  responded  partially  to  the  stimulant, 
and  there  were  no  tokens  of  suffering.  Becca,  the 
best  nurse  on  the  plantation — a  "likely"  mulatto, 
trained  from  girlhood  by  her  mistress  for  this  par- 
ticular line  of  work — was  installed  as  custodian 
in  the  silent  chamber,  and  strict  orders  were  sent 
throughout  the  grounds  surrounding  the  house  and 
kitchen  that  the  like  quiet  should  prevail  there. 

An  hour  brought  supper-time,  and  the  family 
assembled  about  the  table,  if  not  merrily,  with  cheer- 
ful mien,  and  on  the  part  of  Doctor  Graham  and 
Helen,  with  good  appetites. 

"Still  quiet,  and  with  no  indication  of  any  imme- 
diate change,"  were  the  returns  from  the  temporary 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       233 

hospital  ward,  as  the  physician  joined  the  little  com- 
pany collected  after  supper  in  the  side-porch. 

"Our  talking  will  not  disturb  her?"  queried  Mad- 
am, solicitously. 

"It  would  not,  if  your  voices  could  be  heard  in 
the  room,  which  they  cannot  be.  Becca  will  call 
me  should  the  patient  be  restless." 

Helen  stood  no  more  in  awe  of  doctors  than  of 
ministers,  and  she  had  her  word  ready: 

"Funny — isn't  it?  how  none  of  us  give  her  her 
name  ?  The  doctor,  of  course,  uses  what  naturalists 
would  term  'the  generic  title.'  The  Queen  of  Eng- 
land— or,  we  will  say,  Mrs.  Rashe  Blankenship — 
would  be  to  him  just  'a  patient,'  a  subject  to  be 
cured,  or  killed,  or  dissected ! " 

"Helen !"  interjected  her  grandmother  in  reproof, 
neutralized  by  the  doctor's  jolly  laugh. 

"Convenient  in  the  present  instance,  Miss  Sauce- 
box !  I  doubt  if  any  one  of  us  is  altogether  certain 
in  his  or  her  own  mind  what  name  to  apply  to  the — 
Molly  Watkins-that-was.  The  generic  term  comes 
in  handy  here." 

In  the  moonlight  he  could  see  Beth  start,  and 
her  voice  was  oddly  muffled  as  she  asked:  "What 
makes  you  say  that?  Have  you  any  reason  for 
disbelieving  what  she  tells  of  herself?" 

He  laughed  again  and  more  heartily: 

"She  has  told  so  much  that  one  may  be  excused 
for  not  troubling  oneself  to  credit — or  to  recollect. 
If  you  mean  do  I  believe  that  the  wreck  of  what 
was  once  a  woman  that  lies  in  that  room" — jerking 


234       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

his  thumb  In  the  direction  of  the  Chamber, — "was, 
fifteen  or  sixteen  years  back,  Mary — often  called 
'Molly'  Watkins,  born  and  bred  in  this  county, 
who  ran  away — I  am  sorry  to  say  not  to  be  married 
— after  having  her  fling  as  a  dashing  belle — I  have 
not  the  slightest  doubt  as  to  her  identity.  Besides 
the  tattooed  initials  on  her  shoulder,  which,  by  the 
way,  I  have  seen — we  have  sufficient  evidence  of 
the  truth  of  her  story  to  convince  all  the  juries  in 
America.  Why" — still  laughing — "she  can  give 
you  the  pedigree  of  every  family  hi  the  county,  with 
scandals  about  most  of  them  that  would  make  their 
honored  ancestors  turn  in  their  graves.  She  knows 
the  Watkins  clan  from  Adam  down  to  her  own  father 
— who,  now  I  come  to  think  of  it,  was  also  named 
'Adam.'  She  was  a  joy  to  paupers  and  overseer 
when  she  was  tolerably  well  and — sober !  I  told 
you  she  has  been  an  opium-fiend  for  nobody  knows 
how  long.  Not  even  herself,  I  suspect.  The  habit 
got  hold  of  her,  maybe  five,  maybe  ten,  years  ago. 
She  claims  to  have  travelled  pretty  nearly  all  over 
the  world,  and  mingled  in  very  fine  society.  She  has 
got  to  the  end  of  her  tether  now — poor  sinner!" 

He  knocked  the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe  and  refilled 
it. 

"Don't,  doctor — please  I"  It  was  Madam  Car- 
rington  who  spoke.  "Every  word  goes  to  my  soul ! 
I  have  done  some  mighty  hard  thinking  to-day  and 
none  of  it  was  harder  than  the  blame  I  heap  upon 
myself  and  other  professing  Christians  in  our  county, 
and  especially  in  our  church,  for  the  part  we  have 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       235 

played  in  this  shameful  affair.  I  can  think  of  nothing 
but  the  ninety-and-nine  who  stayed  safe  and  com- 
fortable in  the  green  pastures  beside  the  still  waters, 
while  the  Shepherd  went  to  seek  the  wandering 
sheep.  From  what  you  tell  us  of  the  poorhouse  and 
the  doings  there,  there  are  more  than  fifty  straying 
sheep  whom  we  have  left  to  their  own  devices  and 
to  their  own  fate.  To  their  own  deserts,  you  may 
say!  That  was  not  the  Master's  way  of  dealing 
with  sinners.  Like  yourself,  I  have  no  doubt  as 
to  the  identity  of  this  poor  creature.  For  a  while 
I  refused  to  admit  the  possibility  that  her  frightful 
story  might  be  true.  The  evidence  is  overwhelming. 
And  we,  the  well-fed,  self-satisfied  ninety-and-nine, 
priding  ourselves  upon  our  'missionary  spirit,'  have 
never  lifted  a  finger  to  save  her  soul — or  the  souls 
of  the  rest  of  the  wanderers  within  hearing  of  psalms 
and  hymns  and  spiritual  songs.  Oh,  the  shame  of 
it !  the  shame  of  it ! " 

Had  a  thunderbolt  fallen  through  the  roof  at 
their  feet,  the  listeners  to  the  impassioned  outburst 
could  not  have  been  more  confounded.  The  doc- 
tor's hand  was  arrested  half-way  to  his  pipe;  Beth 
sat  back  in  the  shade  with  drooping  head,  and  Mr. 
Rice  leaned  against  the  railing,  his  face  half-hidden 
by  his  hand.  Undaunted  Helen  found  expression 
first: 

"But,  grandmother!  you  forget  that  Mr.  Rice 
did  preach  at  the  poorhouse  often  when  he  could 
preach!  You  can't  blame  him  for  not  going  there 
now,  And  when  he  did  go,  nobody  seemed  to  want 


236       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

him,  or  care  to  listen  to  what  he  had  to  say.  The 
overseer  had  to  drive  them  into  the  room  to  hear 
the  sermon,  and  the  mothers  wouldn't  keep  the 
babies  quiet — and  it  was  all  mighty  discouraging. 
You  must  admit  that!" 

"I  am  blaming  myself  most  of  all,  my  child! 
There  are  not  ten  people  in  our  church — the 
strongest  in  the  county ! — who  have  been  members 
of  it  longer  than  I.  I  am  old  enough  to  be  Mr.  Rice's 
mother.  Did  I  ever  go  to  the  poorhouse  with  him  ? 
I  knew  there  were  ignorant  and  sinful  women  there. 
Did  I  ever  seek  out  the  lost?  Don't  try  to  excuse 
me!  These  thoughts  have  been  brewing  in  my 
mind  for  months.  I  put  them  aside  when  they  were 
very  obtrusive  by  saying  that  my  duty  was  in  my 
own  home,  upon  my  own  plantation,  and  in  my 
own  church,  first  of  all.  And  that  when  all  this 
should  be  done,  there  would  be  time  enough  to  ex- 
tend my  'sphere  of  usefulness.'  That  was  what  I 
called  it  in  the  stupidity  of  my  self-righteousness. 
Mr.  Rice  did  not  need  to  be  encouraged  to  preach 
once  a  month  at  the  poorhouse.  He  was  young 
and  had  pastured  all  his  life  with  the  ninety-and- 
nine.  Woman's  work  and  woman's  wit  and  woman's 
love  were  what  were  needed  there,  more  than  one 
sermon  a  month.  God  forgive  me!  I  can  never 
forgive  myself!" 

Another  pause  that  grew  awesome  as  time  went  on. 
Helen,  alive  to  all  about  her,  told  Beth  afterward 
that  it  terrified  her  when  she  could  hear  the  ticking 
of  the  watch  in  the  doctor's  fob  as  he  sat  by  her. 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       237 

Beth's  hand  stole  over  to  that  which  lay  in  Mad- 
am's lap  and  the  two  were  interlocked  tightly. 

At  last,  Doctor  Graham  spoke.  He  would  have 
described  himself  as  a  man  of  practical,  hard,  every- 
day sense,  without  an  atom  of  sentimentality  hi  his 
make-up.  His  comment  was  characteristic: 

"It  is  exactly  as  you  have  said,  my  dear  Madam. 
But  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?  I  can't 
agree  with  you  that  it  is  women's  work.  And  you 
have  no  idea  what  kind  of  soil  your  missionaries 
would  have  to  cultivate.  It's  all  briers  and  thorns, 
so  to  speak.  And  even  if  there  were  hope  of  making 
it  arable,  would  it  pay?  There  is  enough  work  laid 
ready  to  the  hand  of  each  of  us,  as  you  have  truly 
remarked,  to  fill  every  minute  of  time  and  employ 
all  our  energies.  Doesn't  it  seem — pardon  me! 
but  the  thought  strikes  me  always,  when  I  listen 
to  the  orations  of  so-called  reformers — doesn't  it 
seem  a  little  Quixotic  to  expend  strength  in  work- 
ing barren  ground  when  better  soil  is  demanding 
cultivation?" 

Rejoinder  came  from  an  unexpected  quarter. 

The  little  minister  stood  up  in  the  moonlight 
at  his  full  height  and  spoke  hi  a  voice  of  surprising 
volume  and  clearness: 

"If  'Don  Quixote'  had  been  written,  say,  in  the 
year  10  B.C.,  that  is  what  the  scribes  and  Pharisees — 
who,  I  take  it,  were  the  ninety-and-nine  of  that 
date — would  have  said  of  the  Master's  work.  Much 
that  has  been  said  to-night  has  been  sticking  like 
a  thorn  in  my  conscience  for  many  a  day.  What 


238       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

are  we  to  do,  you  ask,  doctor?  I  am  not  prepared 
to  say,  only  that  something  ought  to  be  done — in 
the  name  and  in  the  strength  of  Him  whose  errand 
to  earth  was  to  seek  and  save  those  who  were  classed 
with  the  lost  by  men  who  filled  high  places  in  the 
synagogues.  Miss  Elizabeth !  "  bowing  toward  her 
with  old-world  courtesy,  "you  are  very  tired  and 
the  doctor  will  agree  with  me  in  deciding  that  you 
should  not  sit  up  longer." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

HELEN  CARRINGTON,  who  had  her  Shakespeare 
upon  the  tip  of  her  tireless  tongue,  insisted  that 
Mr.  Rice  did  not  wait  until 

"the  early  village  cock 
Hath  thrice  done  salutation  to  the  morn" 

before  he  arose  to  the  duties  of  the  day. 

"It  is  my  belief  that  he  gives  the  signal  for  salu- 
tation No.  i .  The  boldest  chanticleer  on  the  place 
dare  not  utter  a  'peep'  until  the  shutters  of  the 
office- windows  are  opened." 

They  were  wide  open  on  the  morning  succeeding 
the  arrival  of  Doctor  Graham's  "patient"  at  High 
Hill.  The  little  minister  stood  in  the  doorway,  fac- 
ing the  newly-risen  sun,  and  taking  in  deep  drafts 
of  the  scented  air,  when  he  espied  the  flutter  of  a 
white  gown  between  clumps  of  shrubbery,  and  ad- 
vanced to  meet  Beth  Moore  hurrying  across  the 
lawn  toward  him. 

"You  will  get  your  feet  wet!"  he  called,  when 
she  was  within  speaking  distance.  Changing  the 
warning  note  in  stooping  to  lay  his  hand  upon  the 
turf — "No  danger!  There  is  not  a  drop  of  dew! 
And  by  the  same  token,  we  may  expect  rain  within 
twenty-four  hours." 

The  last  sentence  granted  her  time  to  get  her 

239 


240       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

breath,  as  he  meant  it  should.  Whatever  she  had 
to  say  should  await  her  convenience.  His  tact  in 
minor  points  of  breeding  was  unfailing. 

"I  know  that  the  grass  is  dry."  Beth's  com- 
plexion was  drained  to-day  of  all  suspicion  of  color; 
her  eyes  were  large  and  dark.  "I  ran  out  the  back 
way,  not  to  disturb  anybody  indoors.  Can  you 
spare  me  ten  minutes?  I  must  talk  to  you  before 
they  are  all  astir." 

He  had  offered  his  arm  mutely,  as  was  the  grace- 
ful fashion  of  the  time,  and  they  had  turned,  by 
tacit  agreement,  into  the  walk  leading  to  the  garden- 
gate. 

"I  stole  down-stairs  very  softly  to  look  into  the 
Chamber.  The  door  was  open  all  night,  of  course, 
that  Doctor  Graham,  who  slept  on  a  parlor  sofa, 
might  hear  every  sound.  He  was  snoring  comfort- 
ably when  I  came  out.  Becca  tiptoed  into  the  hall 
and  whispered  that  'she'  had  laid  like  a  log,  and 
not  given  a  bit  of  trouble ! " 

"Graham  predicted  last  night  that  there  would 
be  no  change  for  hours,"  replied  Mr.  Rice,  indif- 
ferently. "Shall  we  go  into  the  rose-arbor?  No 
one  can  see  us  there  from  the  house.  There  is  no 
haste !  Take  your  time.  I  am  afraid  you  have  had 
a  restless  night.  I  wish  I  could  persuade  you  to 
take  more  thought  for  yourself,  and  to  be  less  dis- 
tressed over  other  people's  troubles." 

They  were  in  the  arbor,  and  he  brushed  a  garden- 
chair  with  his  handkerchief  before  seating  her  in  it. 

She  forced  a  grateful  smile. 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       241 

"You  must  not  be  too  kind  to  me,  or  I  shall  not 
be  able  to  talk  sensibly  and  collectedly.  There  is 
nobody  else  to  consult  now  that  Paul  is  away.  And 
it  so  happens  that  I  could  not  tell  him  some  things! 
— the  things  that  worry  me  most  of  all.  I  can  be 
perfectly  frank  with  you,  Mr.  Rice!" — facing  him 
abruptly — "who  is  this  woman  who  calls  herself 
'Molly  Watkins'?" 

The  vehemence  with  which  she  flung  out  the 
words  was  so  foreign  to  her  usual  manner  that  a 
more  nervous  man  would  have  been  at  a  loss  for 
a  direct  answer.  He  raised  his  eyebrows  slightly 
in  meeting  her  imploring  look.  There  was  no  sign 
of  surprise  in  tone  and  demeanor: 

"You  heard  me  say  last  night  what  I  think — 
what  no  one  who  has  investigated  the  case  can  doubt. 
I  believe  that  the  battered  wreck  of  what  was  once 
a  handsome  woman  is  what  she  declares  herself 
to  be.  Doctor  Graham  is  as  confident  as  myself, 
and  so  is  Blankenship,  who  has  had  the  best  possi- 
ble opportunities  of  knowing  the  truth.  Have  you 
any  especial  reason  for  asking  the  question?" 

"You  may  think  that  my  imagination  has  run 
away  with  my  judgment."  Beth  made  a  heroic 
effort  to  seem  at  her  ease.  "I  will  tell  you  what 
first  aroused — I  cannot  say  'suspicions,'  for  they 
are  hardly  that !  But  I  have  had  misgivings.  Let 
me  try  to  make  you  understand ! " 

Still  putting  force  upon  her  nervous  unrest,  she 
told  him  of  the  discovery  of  the  scar  upon  the 
woman's  wrist. 


242       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

"Of  course  you  will  say,  as  I  reminded  myself, 
that  a  scar  does  not  tell  its  age  after  a  year  or  so, 
and  this  may  be  the  mark  of  a  hurt  received  after  she 
ran  away.  But" — leaning  toward  him  and  speak- 
ing impressively — "although  Mary  Watkins  had 
no  such  scar  on  her  wrist — Cecile  Carrington  had ! 
She  told  me  that  her  brother  slashed  her  wrist  with 
a  razor  in  a  fit  of  rage  when  they  were  children. 
Although  it  was  not  very  distinct  when  she  was 
plump  and  her  skin  white,  she  was  sensitive  about 
it,  and  always  wore  either  a  bracelet  or  a  band  of 
black  velvet  over  it.  Now  that  this — person — is 
thin  and  sallow,  it  is  a  livid  line  across  the  back 
of  the  wrist." 

A  gesture  broke  the  sentence:  "Pardon  me,  dear 
friend !  but  you  are  taking  too  much  for  granted. 
Against  the  evidence  of  a  scar  that  may  not  be  a 
year  old,  I  set  the  numerous  proofs  I  have  cited  of 
the  extreme  improbability  that  this  is  the  woman 
of  whose  death  we  have  a  legal  certificate  under 
the  hand  and  seal  of  the  American  Legation  in  the 
city  in  which  she  died  and  was  buried." 

"We  had  a  similar  story  once  before!"  inter- 
rupted Beth,  bitterly. 

"  Granted !  but  that  was  the  work  of  a  wily,  un- 
principled conspirator,  contrived  to  gain  his  own 
selfish  purposes.  The  character  of  the  official  who 
forwarded  the  proofs  of  the  decease  of  'Mrs.  Jules 
Dupont'  abroad  puts  him  above  suspicion." 

"Don't  you  suppose  that  I  have  been  all  over 
that  again  and  again,  until  I  am  half-mad !  I  did 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       243 

not  sleep  an  hour  all  night.  For — there  was  some- 
thing else !  She  recognized  me  and  spoke  twice 
while  we  were  together  in  the  carriage.  And  the 
intonations  reminded  me  of — the  other  woman ! 
She  was  faint,  and  brought  out  every  word  with 
difficulty.  And  the  voice  might  have  been  Mary 
Watkins's  or  that  of  anybody  else — it  was  a  hoarse 
whisper — yet  there  was  something  that  froze  my 
heart's  blood!  She  told  me,  calling  me  by  name, 
that  I  'could  not  marry  Paul  Carrington'l" 

She  gasped  it  brokenly  in  an  ecstasy  of  shame 
and  grief,  and  buried  her  face  in  her  handkerchief. 

Mahlon  Rice's  tone  was  as  gentle  and  tender  as 
his  sister's  could  have  been. 

"Dear,  dear  friend!"  he  reiterated.  "Naomi's 
friend  and  mine  for  all  these  years !  Could  I  argue 
this  matter  calmly  if  there  were  the  shadow  of  a 
possibility  that  you  have  any  ground  for  your  mis- 
givings? Paul  is  more  to  me  than  a  brother  could 
be.  There  is  no  living  creature  whom  I  love  more 
devotedly.  Could  I  entertain  for  one  minute  a 
theory  that  would  shatter  his  happiness  for  all  time  ? 
I  would  stake  my  soul  upon  the  firm  conviction 
that  your  excited  imagination — wrought,  as  you 
say,  almost  to  madness — has  built  up  a  tragedy 
that  is  simply  incredible  because — are  you  listen- 
ing?— because  it  is  beyond  the  bounds  of  reason 
and  possibility.  You  are  terribly  shaken  by  what 
you  have  seen  and  endured  during  the  last  twenty- 
four  hours,  and  utterly  incapable  of  thinking  like 
the  cool-headed,  rational  woman  you  will  be  to- 


244       THE   CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

morrow.  Impossibilities  do  not  happen !  And 
this  wild  fancy  can  never  crystallize  into  a  reality. 
It  was  a  mistake  to  bring  that  creature  here.  It 
was  a  more  grievous  blunder  to  let  you  be  mixed 
up  in  the  dirty  affair!" 

He  forgot  to  pick  his  words  in  the  honest  indig- 
nation that  filled  his  soul.  The  unlikeness  to  his 
usual  gentle  dignity  of  bearing  and  speech  struck 
Beth,  in  spite  of  the  disorder  of  her  faculties,  with  a 
sense  of  incongruousness  that  was  positively  amus- 
ing. He  was  so  positive  as  to  the  stability  of  his 
argument,  so  free  from  apprehension  of  impending 
peril,  that  the  horror  of  great  darkness  rolled  from 
her  mind  as  fogs  before  a  cleansing  breeze. 

She  wiped  her  eyes  and  showed  him  a  brighter 
face  than  he  had  seen  since  the  doctor's  visit  yes- 
terday had  tossed  a  bomb  into  their  peaceful  home. 

"I  will  make  myself  believe  you,"  she  said,  grate- 
fully. "You  are  the  wisest  'confessor'  and  truest 
friend  that  ever  blessed  the  lives  of  those  who  con- 
fide in  you.  A  magician,  too,  for  I  am  not  the  poor 
crazed  creature  who  came  to  the  confessional  a  little 
while  ago." 

"Now" — straightening  up,  as  one  who  had  quaffed 
the  elixir  of  new  energy  and  purpose — "supposing 
— I  would  say, — 'knowing'  that  the  doctor's  patient 
is  what  she  claims  to  be — or,  at  any  rate,  not  what 
my  insane  theory  suggested  that  she  might  be — 
we  can  do  nothing  more  just  now  than  take  care 
of  her  according  to  the  doctor's  orders — until  the 
change  comes?" 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       245 

He  patted  the  back  of  her  hand  approvingly. 
"Right,  as  usual!  And,  above  all,  keep  our  own 
counsel  with  regard  to  groundless  suspicions  as  to 
mistaken  identity  and  so  forth.  Madam  Carring- 
ton  would  scout  them  as  we  do,  but  I  would  not  lay 
a  straw  in  the  path  of  her  beautiful  work  of  charity 
toward  the  erring  and  unrepentant.  What  she  said 
last  night  held  mine  eyes  waking  for  hours.  God 
helping  me,  I  am  going  to  think  out  a  plan  for  reach- 
ing some  of  the  outcasts  we  have  passed  by  as  hope- 
lessly depraved.  We  have  a  doctrine  in  our  church 
that  one  may  commit  the  unpardonable  sin. 
Theologians  are  not  quite  agreed  as  to  what  it  is. 
The  general  belief,  based  upon  the  context,  is  that 
it  is  blasphemy  against  the  Holy  Ghost.  This  is  per- 
haps the  right  view  to  take  of  what  is  made  a  mys- 
tery of,  to  the  hurt  of  some  timid  souls.  I  have  won- 
dered sometimes  if  refusing  to  seek  and  help  save 
that  which  we  Pharisees  reckon  as  beyond  the  reach 
of  God's  mercy,  may  not  belong  to  the  same  class  of 
sins.  'If  a  man  love  not  his  brother  whom  he  hath 
seen,  how  can  he  love  God  whom  he  hath  not  seen  ? ' 
We  prate  of  the  brotherhood  of  man,  and  then  ar- 
rogate to  ourselves  the  right  to  select  from  the  great 
fraternity  those  who  we  think  are  worthy  to  be 
ministered  to  by  our  smug  and  saintly  selves.  We 
are  not  told  what  was  the  attitude  of  mind  of  the 
ninety-and-nine  while  the  Shepherd  was  absent 
upon  his  errand  of  salvation.  One  who  keeps  an 
eye  upon  the  secure  fold  of  our  age  may  figure  to 
himself  how  they  behaved,  and  what  reception 


246       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

the  ' stray'  had  from  his  nearest  of  kin  and  former 
companions.  God  be  merciful  to  us,  sinners!" 

He  bared  his  head  devoutly  and  sat  looking  at 
the  ground  under  his  feet  until  Beth  made  a  move- 
ment to  rise. 

"I  cannot  thank  you  as  I  would  for  lifting  the 
horrible  burden  from  my  heart!"  she  said,  warmly. 
"You  help  me  to  comprehend  why  pious  Catholics 
find  comfort  and  strength  in  confession.  You  have 
been  our  spiritual  director  so  long  that  I  am  afraid 
we  impose  upon  you  sometimes  in  the  impulse  to 
bring  our  worries  and  conflicts  to  the  office,  or" — 
smiling  and  looking  at  the  leafy  walls  dotted  with 
blooms — "here!  You  will  let  me  say,  too,  and  be- 
lieve that  I  mean  every  word  of  it — that  the  sight 
of  your  resignation  under  misfortune,  and  of  your 
constant  ministrations  to  all  who  appeal  to  you  for 
bodily  or  spiritual  comfort  and  direction,  do  more 
to  commend  your  religion  to  us  than  your  charitable 
deeds  and  teachings." 

He  bowed  silently  without  putting  on  his  hat, 
and  offered  his  arm  for  the  walk  back  to  the 
house. 

"It  doesn't  look  like  the  same  world,"  remarked 
Beth  when  they  paused  at  the  gate  to  look  over 
the  wilderness  of  flower-edged  alleys  and  weedless 
squares  of  vegetables,  sloping  gradually  down  to 
the  fields  of  lush  corn  and  billowing  wheat.  "I 
saw  it  under  a  black  pall  when  I  came  out." 

"The  pall  is  generally  of  our  own  weaving.  God's 
world  is  always  beautiful.  He  'giveth  us  all  things 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       247 

richly  to  enjoy.'  If  sorrow  be  added  to  it,  it  is,  in 
a  vast  majority  of  instances,  our  own  fault." 

"There  is  Doctor  Graham  beckoning  to  us!" 
Beth  quickened  her  steps  in  saying  it,  and  her  heart 
sank  with  a  sickening  roll.  "I  do  hope " 

The  doctor  was  upon  them  before  she  could  finish. 
He  was  hatless  and  without  cravat  or  collar. 

"Becca  called  me  a  while  ago  to  say  that  the 
patient  was  'behavin'  funny.'  Which  meant  that 
she  was  tossing  about  and  preparing  to  go  off  into 
one  of  her  hysterical  fits.  I  gave  her  something  to 
quiet  her  for  the  time,  but  I  am  afraid  to  dose  her 
enough  to  put  her  to  sleep  again.  And — to  make 
matters  worse — here  comes  a  call  that  must  take 
me  away  in  an  hour  or  so." 

"Not  without  your  breakfast!"  announced  Mad- 
am, from  the  end  of  the  porch  nearest  them.  "While 
you  are  eating  you  can  issue  orders  for  the  day.  Lest 
you  may  have  private  preferences,  I  wish  it  to  be 
distinctly  understood  that  I  appoint  myself  head 
nurse.  Now,  come  into  the  dining-room.  Break- 
fast is  waiting ! " 

Two  of  the  party  obeyed.  The  doctor  joined 
them  incredibly  soon  when  one  surveyed  the  per- 
fect propriety  of  a  toilet  so  lately  dishevelled.  His 
coffee  was  poured  out  as  soon  as  his  step  rang  upon 
the  polished  floor  of  the  hall,  and  by  the  time  he 
was  in  his  chair  his  plate  was  furnished  with  fried 
chicken  and  hot  muffins. 

He  fell  to  work  with  a  will,  and  nobody  plied  him 
with  questions  while  his  hunger  was  at  flood-tide. 


248       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

He  had  quaffed  a  second  cup  of  coffee  and  disposed 
zestfully  of  a  third  waffle  before — remarking  that 
he  "never  mixed  drugs  with  food" — he  asked  per- 
mission to  leave  the  bounteous  board  and  begged 
for  a  consultation  with  the  head  nurse. 

They  withdrew  to  a  distant  window,  and  Madam 
presently  summoned  Beth. 

"She  is  my  alternate,"  she  explained.  "Who  is 
as  competent  to  serve  in  the  ward  as  myself.  You 
think,  then,  doctor,  that  Mary  may  be  able  to  take 
a  little  nourishment  to-day?  In  anticipation  of 
this,  I  had  beef-tea,  chicken  jelly,  and  arrowroot 
blanc-mange  made  last  night." 

The  doctor  nodded  hearty  approval. 

"Nothing  could  be  better.  We  know  that  you 
are  a  genius  in  invalid  cookery.  I  was  saying  to 
her,  Miss  Elizabeth,  that  for  some  hours  we  must 
go  on  with  what  topers  call  the  'cooling-off  process.' 
We  dare  not  stop  it  at  once.  I  shall  leave  small 
doses  of  brandy  and  of  an  opiate  to  be  administered 
at  regular  intervals  all  day,  diminishing  the  quan- 
tity and  lengthening  the  intervals  gradually.  She 
has  marvellous  vitality.  She  can  never  get  well. 
That  is  a  fixed  fact.  We  may  keep  her  alive  for 
several  days.  She  may  go  off  without  a  moment's 
notice.  The  heart — and  for  that  matter,  every 
other  organ — is  hopelessly  diseased.  Keep  her  as 
quiet  as  you  can.  Should  she  be  inclined  to  talk, 
discourage  her.  She  wants  to  live.  She  told  me 
last  week  that  she  had  come  to  the  county  with 
an  object,  and  that  she  would  not  die  until  it  was 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       249 

accomplished.  "And  if  I  didn't  mean  to  live  for 
any  other  reason,  I  won't  die — just  to  spite  you!" 
Then  she  wandered  off  into  another  strain.  All 
she  says  now  is  the  wildest  delirious  fancy.  Pay 
no  attention  to  it.  The  Blankenship  woman  excited 
her  by  asking  questions.  It  was  a  most  Christianly 
act  to  bring  her  here.  I  can  see  that  the  change  of 
air  and  the  superior  comfort  of  her  surroundings 
are  telling  upon  her  already."  He  lowered  his  voice: 
"May  I  take  the  liberty  of  suggesting  to  you,  Madam, 
that  it  would  be  better  to  send  Miss  Helen  away 
for  a  few  days?  She  is  excitable  and  high-strung, 
and  the  environment  is  not — healthy !  at  present. 
She  has  so  many  friends  that  you  may  be  at  a  loss 
to  make  choice  of  one  who  will  be  overjoyed  to  have 
a  visit  from  her.  Mrs.  Graham — for  instance — 
would  be  charmed,  and  so  would  be  my  daughters. 
Unless  you  think  that  she  ought  not  to  be  kept  in 
touch  with  this — harrowing  case — through  me?  I 
can  see  that  her  interest  in  it  is  intense  already. 
Constant  association  with  those  who  have  the 
wretched  object  in  charge  may  be  injurious.  Par- 
don my  freedom  of  speech !  But  I  greatly  admire 
your  lovely  granddaughter  and  I  understand  how 
dear  she  is  to  you  both." 

"Do  not  apologize,  please!  We  appreciate  the 
wisdom  of  your  advice,  and  thank  you  for  your  in- 
terest in  our  girl.  It  occurred  to  me  yesterday  when 
I  saw  the  feverish  excitement  with  which  she  in- 
sisted upon  taking  part  in  the  arrangements  for 
the  patient's  arrival,  that  this  must  not  go  on. 


250       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

Judith  Carter  has  been  begging  for  a  visit  from 
Helen  for  a  long  time.  She  was  here  last  Monday, 
to  invite  her  to  spend  a  week  with  her  to  meet  her 
cousins  from  Baltimore  who  are  to  come  to-day." 
"Good!  better!  best!  I  call  this  a  providential 
interposition.  If  you  will  allow  me,  I  will  stop  at 
Mr.  Carter's  on  my  way  to  Mr.  Meade's  this  morn- 
ing. I  told  you  his  head-man  is  ill,  didn't  I  ?  May 
I  raise  Miss  Judith  to  the  seventh  heaven  of  de- 
light by  saying  that  she  may  expect  Miss  Helen 
this  evening?  The  sooner  she  is  out  of  this  atmos- 
phere the  better." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THUS  it  came  about  that  with  the  descent  of  a  wet 
twilight  upon  the  venerable  homestead,  the  family 
party  seated  about  the  supper-table  was  reduced 
to  three.  Helen  had  gone  off  in  exuberant  spirits 
before  the  first  droppings  of  the  ram  prognosticated 
by  the  dewless  dawn. 

"Nothing  could  be  more  opportune !"  she  exulted. 
"If  I  could  be  of  any  use  here  it  would  be  my  duty 
and  my  pleasure  to  stay.  As  it  is — "  An  expressive 
grimace  said  the  rest. 

"The  house  is  like  Tom  Moore's  'banquet-hall 
deserted'  without  the  winsome  witch,"  Madam 
Carrington  summed  up  the  sentiments  of  her  com- 
panions by  saying  over  the  teacups.  "She  tries 
my  patience  sometimes  and" — lowering  her  voice 
as  the  footman  busied  himself  at  a  remote  side- 
table — "  I  confess  that  a  resemblance  we  all  recognize 
in  manner  and  talk  makes  me  uneasy  when  she 
lets  her  spirits  run  away  with  her  tongue.  But  she 
is  the  apple  of  my  eye,  all  the  same.  Doctor  Gra- 
ham's advice  was  very  judicious.  Whatever  may 
be  the  developments  of  the  next  few  days,  no  good 
could  come  to  her  from  seeing  and  hearing  it  all." 

Beth  shuddered  audibly:  "Did  you  hear  her 
tell  me  after  dinner  that  she  had  peeped  into  the 
1  hospital  ward'  (she  will  call  it  nothing  else)  and 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  patient?  This  was  her 

251 


252       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

story:  'Becca  was  lifting  her  head  that  she  might 
drink  something  out  of  a  glass,  and  she  saw  me ! 
and  gave  a  little  screech.  "  You  little  imp  of  Satan ! " 
she  said.  "Where  did  you  come  from?"  As  you 
may  suppose,  I  didn't  wait  to  hear  any  more,  but 
ran  for  my  life.  And  such  a  voice  as  she  had !  It 
was  "Hark,  from  the  tombs  a  doleful  sound!"  and 
grandmother  scolded  me  for  exciting  her !  What 
a  death's-head  she  is,  to  be  sure ! ' ' 

"I  did  tell  her  that  she  ought  not  to  let  the  poor 
creature  see  her,"  replied  Madam.  "Becca  said  it 
was  a  long  time  before  she  quieted  down.  She  would 
know  who  it  was  who  had  peeped  at  her,  and  in- 
sisted that  it  was  a  ghost,  if  it  were  not  a  devil.  I 
found  her  quite  exhausted  when  I  went  in.  The 
child  is  right  in  describing  her  as  a  'death's-head.' 
I  doubt  if  her  own  mother  would  know  her  if  she 
were  alive  to  see  the  poor  ruin.  I  am  thankful  she 
is  not." 

Madam  Carrington  and  Beth  were  to  divide  the 
watch  that  night,  Mirny  sleeping  upon  a  pallet  in 
the  hall,  in  case  she  should  be  needed.  Becca  was 
to  have  a  long  rest  after  the  vigil  of  the  preceding 
night  and  the  cares  of  the  day.  Beth  was  dismissed 
to  her  room  to  get  a  few  hours'  sleep.  At  midnight 
she  would  relieve  the  elder  custodian.  The  trained 
nurse  had  not  yet  blessed  the  earth,  and  the  cares 
she  was  to  assume  in  the  next  century  devolved 
upon  the  family,  friends,  and  neighbors  of  the  stricken 
one.  Madam  had  decreed  wisely  that  the  pitiable 
wreck  stranded  in  the  safe  harbor  of  her  home  should 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       253 

not  be  exhibited  to  the  curious  and  indifferent  who 
would  be  sure  to  tender  services  when  the  news  got 
abroad  of  the  removal  of  Rashe's  lodger  to  more 
luxurious  quarters.  When,  at  half  past  eleven 
o'clock,  Mr.  Rice,  who  had  been  sitting  alone  upon 
the  porch,  entered  the  Chamber  with  soundless  tread, 
Madam  sat  with  her  book  in  a  distant  corner,  a  tall 
folding-screen  shutting  the  light  of  her  lamp  from 
the  rest  of  the  room. 

Still  noiselessly,  the  Little  Minister  approached 
the  bed  and  stood  beside  it  until  he  could  discern 
through  the  gloom  the  figure  of  her  who  lay  there. 
The  room  was  lofty  and  spacious,  and  every  window 
was  open.  But  the  labored  respiration  brought  to 
his  senses  a  faint  but  unmistakable  odor  of  brandy 
and  opium.  The  "cooling  off"  was  still  in  operation. 
The  lock  of  hair  that  had  escaped  from  her  cap 
trailed  down  the  pillow. 

In  the  gloom  it  looked  almost  black.  He  recol- 
lected, against  his  will,  that  he  had  told  her,  time 
and  time  again,  that  her  hair  was  the  true  golden 
chestnut — the  "cMtaigne  doree"  of  French  peasants, 
and  how  she  liked  to  hear  him  say  it.  He  had  known 
no  more  bitter  humiliation  in  his  life  than  the  mental 
nausea  that  overtook  him  at  that  instant.  This 
pitiful  wreck  had  been  the  one  love  of  his  manhood. 
Paul  Carrington  was  a  mere  boy,  new  to  the  world 
that  opened  so  many  avenues  of  dizzying  delight 
to  the  scion  of  an  aristocratic  and  wealthy  family, 
when  he  met  the  siren  who  had  blasted  his  best 
years. 


254       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

He — Mahlon  Rice — walked  deliberately  into  the 
snares  laid  for  him  by  a  girl  in  his  own  set,  and 
straightway  endowed  her  with  all  the  graces  of  a 
goddess.  Oh,  it  was  a  contemptible,  squalid  pre- 
tense of  a  romance !  but  he  had  had  no  other. 

He  might  have  fancied  that  the  intensity  of  self- 
disgust  that  obsessed  him  had  some  occult  influence 
upon  the  sick  woman,  for  she  threw  up  her  arms 
with  a  hoarse  shriek,  and  made  as  though  she  would 
rise  from  the  bed.  As  he  instinctively  laid  hold  of 
the  struggling  hands,  Madam  Carrington  spoke  at 
his  elbow — as  calmly  as  if  his  presence  there  and 
then  were  altogether  natural  and  proper. 

"Take  this  for  me,  please!"  she  said,  handing 
him  a  lighted  taper,  "and  hold  it  so  the  light  will 
not  shine  in  her  eyes." 

Then  she  captured  both  the  fluttering  hands  in 
one  of  hers  and  bent  to  the  patient's  ear: 

"You  are  dreaming,  my  dear!  There  is  nothing 
to  be  afraid  of  here.  You  are  hot  and  thirsty.  We 
must  make  you  more  comfortable." 

Had  the  pauper  been  Beth,  or  Helen,  her  voice 
would  not  have  been  gentler,  the  intonation  more 
persuasive.  A  basin  of  water  stood  upon  a  table 
by  the  bed.  Madam  dipped  a  cloth  into  it  and 
bathed  the  hollow  cheeks  and  the  furrowed  fore- 
head, talking  softly  as  she  slipped  her  hand  under 
the  head  to  raise  it  to  an  easier  position. 

"There!  that  is  better!  Lie  still  for  a  minute!" 
She  took  the  taper  from  Mr.  Rice's  hand  and  gave 
him  a  large  light  fan,  motioning  to  him  to  use  it. 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       255 

Hardly  more  than  a  minute  had  elapsed  when  she 
was  beside  him  again.  The  sick  woman  lay  quiet 
with  closed  eyes  under  the  soothing  sweep  of  the 
fan.  The  man  found  himself  obeying  mechanically 
every  gesture  of  his  chief  in  office,  and  with  no  un- 
easy perception  of  the  novelty  of  the  situation  thrust 
upon  him.  But  one  coherent  phrase  recurred  to 
his  misty  fancy :  Paul  had  spoken  to  him  more  than 
once  or  twice  of  his  mother  as  "one  born  to  com- 
mand." Even  the  pitiable  caricature  of  humanity 
to  whom  they  ministered  now,  had  some  recognition 
of  the  magnetic  force  that  swayed  her  rebellious 
mood. 

Rebellion  there  was  in  the  hollow  eyes  opened 
upon  the  lady's  face,  as  she  again  raised  the  heavy 
head  upon  her  firm  palm  and  held  a  glass  of  iced 
milk  to  the  dried  mouth. 

"Drink  it!"  she  said,  in  the  same  caressing  ac- 
cents that  had  calmed  the  restless  awakening.  "It 
is  cool  and  sweet !  And  you  will  sleep  better  after 
taking  it.  It  is  a  long  time  since  you  have  had  any- 
thing to  eat." 

The  black  eyes  did  not  leave  the  face  so  near  hers 
while  she  swallowed  the  milk.  But  she  obeyed  un- 
resistingly, and  as  Madam  passed  the  emptied  glass 
to  her  silent  assistant,  sighed  deeply  and  satisfiedly. 

"Good!"  she  ejaculated,  her  voice  growing 
stronger  with  each  syllable.  "I  like  it!"  Then, 
fingering  the  sheet  under  her  hand,  she  added,  with- 
out removing  her  strained  gaze  from  her  attendant's 
face:  "This  is  a  linen  sheet!" 


256       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

"It  is,  my  dear!    This  is  summer,  you  know." 

The  toneless  voice  caught  her  up,  "And  this  is 
my  bed!  Mine!'' 

Madam  smiled  naturally: 

"Of  course  it  is !  I  hope  you  are  going  to  have 
another  comfortable  night's  rest  in  it.  We  will  take 
away  the  light  and  keep  everything  quiet." 

The  wasted  hands  clutched  her  arm  as  she  would 
have  moved — the  fixed  stare  of  the  great  eyes  grew 
fierce: 

"Do  you  know" — in  a  hissing  whisper  that  cut 
the  air  like  a  whip — "how  I  hate  you!" 

"Yes?"  As  one  might  humor  a  fractious  child. 
Gently  disengaging  one  hand,  she  dipped  the  other 
in  the  bowl  of  fragrant  water,  and  laid  it  on  the 
forehead  corrugated  with  impotent  fury.  "We  will 
talk  of  that  in  the  morning.  We  can't  let  you  lie 
awake  any  longer.  Go  to  sleep  now!" 

The  subtle  magnetism  to  which  the  disordered 
intellect  had  yielded  before,  prevailed  over  the  un- 
ruly temper.  With  another  long  struggling  sigh 
the  crazed  creature  turned  her  face  to  the  pillow 
and  lay  still. 

"Thank  you  for  coming  in,"  Madam  Carrington 
said  to  her  friend  in  motioning  him  toward  the  door. 
"You  were  a  timely  help  to  me.  I  think  she  will 
be  quiet  now.  She  is  easily  exhausted." 

He  stopped  at  the  outer  door. 

"Let  me  stay  all  night?"  he  pleaded.  "Is  it 
quite  safe  for  you  and  Miss  Beth  to  be  without  a 
man  within  hearing?  She  might  become  violent." 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       257 

A  half-smile  flitted  over  the  lady's  face. 

"She  is  too  weak  to  be  dangerous.  No,  dear 
friend !  I  thank  you  again  for  coming.  But  we 
shall  do  well  now.  Goodnight!" 

He  could  not  disobey  openly.  He  walked  down 
the  steps  and  disappeared  in  the  darkness.  She 
had  gone  back  to  her  post  when  he  stealthily  mounted 
the  steps  and  resumed  his  seat  within  hearing  of 
the  sick  chamber.  The  rain  dripped  from  the  wet 
vines  softly,  and  for  a  long  time  he  heard  nothing 
else.  At  last  he  got  up  and  trod  noiselessly  to  the 
nearest  unshuttered  window.  Except  for  the  feeble 
yellow  glow  of  the  shaded  lamp  behind  the  screen, 
the  great  room  was  in  deepest  shadow.  Presently, 
eyes  used  to  the  black  outer  night,  made  out  the 
outline  of  a  motionless  figure  kneeling  by  the  big 
bed,  her  face  buried  in  her  hands.  Madam  Car- 
rington  was  praying  in  an  agony  of  desire  for  the 
castaway. 

He  went  back  to  his  chair  and  did  not  leave  it 
until  the  east  showed  a  wan  glow. 

Throughout  the  lonely  vigil  certain  words  from 
an  immortal  parable  sounded  in  his  ears  and  heart, 
and  were  accentuated  by  the  memory  of  that  soli- 
tary kneeling  figure: 

"And  when  he  hath  found  it  he  layeth  it  on  his  shoulder." 

The  lost  one  was  not  driven  back  to  the  fold, 
nor  even  led.  The  Shepherd  laid  him  across  his 
shoulder  as  one  who  had  found  a  prize.  The  wan- 
derer became  as  "one  whom  his  mother  comforteth." 


CHAPTER  XX 

DOCTOR  GRAHAM  did  not  conceal  his  dissatisfaction 
with  existing  conditions  in  the  hospital-ward  re- 
vealed by  his  morning  visit. 

The  patient's  vital  forces  were  waning.  That 
was  to  be  expected.  He  was  graver  over  the  ad- 
mission that  slipped  through  Beth's  brief  report 
of  her  night-watch,  that  she  had  not  gone  on  duty 
until  two  o'clock  A.  M.  Madam  Carrington  had  not 
awakened  her  at  midnight  as  had  been  arranged. 

"She  let  me  sleep  because  she  said  she  was  so 
wakeful!"  explained  Beth,  simply.  "It  was  very 
kind  in  her,  but  I  hope  you  will  ask  her  not  to  let 
it  happen  again.  I  am  strong  and  much  younger 
than  she,  and  I  have  the  happy  faculty  of  being 
able  to  catch  a  refreshing  nap  hi  the  daytime,  which 
sets  me  up  all  right.  She  cannot  sleep  except  at 
night." 

The  doctor  fulfilled  his  promise  to  remonstrate 
with  the  elder  woman,  after  the  daily  examination 
of  the  patient  was  concluded.  He  withdrew  with 
his  hostess  to  a  window  so  remote  from  the  bed  that 
their  skilfully  modulated  tones  would  not  have 
been  audible  to  the  occupant  had  she  been  sane 
and  wakeful. 

"My  dear  Madam,  you  should  consider  how 
valuable  at  this  juncture  are  your  own  health  and 

258 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       259 

strength,"  was  the  text  of  a  brief  lecture  to  which 
the  lady  listened  with  imperturbable  composure. 

"At  my  age,  one  requires  less  sleep  than  at  yours — 
or  Beth's,"  she  replied  as  he  paused.  "A  more  im- 
portant matter  is  the  state  of  that  poor  child  over 
there,"  nodding  toward  the  far  corner.  "Tell  me 
frankly,  doctor,  is  there  a  possibility  that  she  may 
recover  her  reason  and  be  able  to  think  and  talk 
coherently  before  the  end  comes?" 

He  pursed  his  lips  obstinately. 

"Not  one  chance  in  a  thousand!  If  you  mean 
to  ask  me  if  she  will  ever  regain  consciousness  in  so 
far  as  the  ability  to  recall  clearly  her  past,  and  com- 
prehend where  she  is  and  what  she  has  become — I 
should  say  decidedly  'No!'  and  add  'Heaven  for- 
bid ! '  It  would  mean  misery  to  her — hopeless 
misery  and  distress  to  lookers-on.  There  is  a  say- 
ing about  burning  a  candle  at  both  ends  and  run- 
ning a  redhot  poker  through  the  middle.  That  is 
what  she  has  done.  She  has  nothing  but  the  'snuff7 
to  throw  into  the  face  of  her  Maker." 

Madam  raised  her  hands  imploringly. 

"Don't  say  that!  The  Father's  mercy  has  no 
bounds.  If  she  could  be  brought  back  to  life  and 
reason  long  enough  to  utter  one  prayer  for  forgive- 
ness— I  believe  it  would  be  heard." 

The  doctor  had  another  quotation  ready: 

"I,  too,  believe  that — 

"'Twixt  the  saddle  and  the  ground, 
If  mercy's  asked,  then  mercy's  found.' 


26o       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

"  'His  compassions  fail  not.'  And  this  was  a  child 
of  the  covenant.  From  all  I  have  heard,  I  suppose 
she  had  religious  training  from  godly  parents " 

He  was  not  allowed  to  proceed  with  the  pious 
prosing.  Madam's  gesture  was  imperious. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  know  of  nothing 
in  medical  science  that  may  coax  back  the  wan- 
dering wits  for  one  minute?  Must  she  die  as  she 
is,  now?  I  have  heard  of  drugs  that  stimulate  the 
heart-action  and  clear  the  brain  for  a  little  while. 
You  must  know  of  such?" 

The  appeal  was  so  agonized  that  he  could  not 
trifle  with  it. 

"All  the  drugs  and  doctors  in  the  land  could  not 
restore  what  we  call  '  tissues.'  Hers  are  utterly 
destroyed.  The  almost  certainty  is  that  she  is  sink- 
ing steadily  and  surely  into  the  stupor  from  which 
she  will  never  rally.  She  has  not  twenty-four  hours 
of  life  left  to  her.  Let  us  be  thankful  that  she  is 
not  likely  to  suffer  pain.  The  candle  will  flicker 
out  quietly." 

As  she  did  not  speak  he  asked  gently:  "You  say 
she  aroused  sufficiently  at  midnight  to  take  her 
milk.  Did  she  speak  intelligently?" 

"She  did!  That  is,  she  evidently  knew  where 
she  was  and  recognized  me.  She  spoke  a  few  words 
distinctly." 

In  saying  it,  she  arose  with  the  unmistakable 
purpose  of  ending  the  dialogue. 

"Becca  will  take  your  orders,  doctor.  I  have  a 
busy  morning  before  me.  And  Beth  must  have 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       261 

some  hours  of  sleep.  I  shall  be  within  call  should 
Becca  need  me." 

Doctor  Graham  bowed  in  acquiescence. 

"There  will  probably  be  little  to  do,  for  some 
hours.  Becca  is  quite  competent  to  manage  all 
until  I  come  again.  I  shall  try  to  call  about  four 
o'clock  this  evening." 

He  made  his  way  to  the  stable  where  his  horse 
had  been  left,  taking  a  circuitous  route  that  led 
him  to  the  "hennery."  He  was  pretty  sure  to  find 
Mr.  Rice  there  at  this  time  of  day.  The  two  held 
close  converse  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  under  the 
giant  walnut-tree  shading  the  poultry-yard.  Thus 
it  was  that  the  physician  heard  what  were  the  few 
coherent  words  uttered  by  the  sick  woman  at  mid- 
night. 

"And  Madam  Carrington  never  repeated  them 
to  me!"  he  ejaculated  when  his  prolonged  whistle 
of  amazement  had  expended  itself  in  air.  "I  tell 
you,  sir,  that  is  Christian  charity  of  the  first  water ! 
She  not  only  takes  in  the  abandoned  wretch  who 
hasn't  a  friend  alive — picks  her  up  out  of  the  filthy 
mud  in  which  she  has  been  wallowing  for  years, 
and  lodges  her  in  her  own  luxurious  house — in  her 
very  own  bed,  sir!  and  nurses  her  as  she  might  her 
own  child,  but  she  lets  her  abuse  her  like  a  dog — 
and  swear  that  she  hates  her,  without  answering 
her  back  as  she  deserves !  There  has  been  nothing 
finer  since  the  story  of  the  Prodigal  Son." 

"It  is  the  Master's  way  of  dealing  with  sinners 
with  whom  their  former  companions  will  have 


262       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

nothing  to  do,"  observed  the  Little  Minister.  "I 
could  not  sleep  last  night  for  thinking  how  the 
shepherd  brought  the  runaway  home  on  his  shoulder 
as  the  eastern  mother  carries  her  baby  when  the 
journey  is  long  and  hard.  The  sight  of  that  noble 
woman  kneeling  by  that  bed  while  the  hiss — 'How 
I  hate  you ! '  must  have  been  yet  ringing  in  her  ears — 
meant  more  to  my  soul  than  any  sermon  of  man's 
preaching  could." 

The  doctor  mused  silently,  deeper  seriousness 
gathering  in  his  eyes: 

"She  entreated  me,  as  for  her  life,  to  try  to  call 
back  consciousness  long  enough  to  enable  the  lost 
sinner  to  utter  one  prayer  for  pardon.  It  wrung 
my  heart  to  tell  her  that  no  mortal  skill  could  do 
that.  If  the  creature  outlives  the  night  I  shall  be 
surprised.  But  that  fine  woman  must  not  sit  up 
with  her  again  to-night.  I  tell  you  what  I  will  do ! " 
struck  by  a  sudden  idea.  "I'll  ride  over  about  three 
o'clock — (that's  said  to  be  the  ebb-tide  of  human 
life,  you  know) — and  look  after  matters  with  my 
own  eyes.  I  have  charged  Madam  Carrington  to 
go  to  bed  like  a  decent  Christian  and  Miss  Eliza- 
beth to  do  the  same.  Becca  and  Mirny  are  capital 
nurses,  and  they  can  call  Madam  if  there  is  any 
change." 

Mr.  Rice  kept  his  own  counsel,  setting  the  ex- 
ample of  obedience  to  the  dictator's  orders  by  be- 
taking himself  to  the  office  early  in  the  evening, 
almost  confident  that  Madam  and  her  coadjutor 
would  be  as  reasonable. 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       263 

The  house  was  still  and  dark  by  ten  o'clock. 
Madam  had  contrived,  half  an  hour  earlier,  to  arouse 
the  patient  from  the  stupor  that  crept  with  more 
and  more  deadly  effect  over  her  senses  as  the  dark 
hours  dragged  by.  There  was  no  light  in  the  filming 
eyes  and  she  did  not  try  to  speak.  But  the  mystic 
force  of  Madam's  presence  and  speech  lingered  still. 
When  the  rich  contralto,  mellow  with  tender  en- 
treaty, bade  her  take  the  draft  held  to  her  lips,  she 
obeyed,  although  with  visible  difficulty. 

"I  know  it  is  not  easy  to  drink  it,  dear,"  said 
the  persuasive  accents  in  the  dulling  ear.  "But 
you  will  try !  It  will  do  you  good !  And  please 
us  all !  Well  done !  Now  you  shall  rest  for  a  long 
tune  before  you  are  disturbed  again ! " 

At  one  o'clock  Beth  was  summoned  by  the  terri- 
fied pair  of  nursing  maids.  The  character  and 
rhythm  of  the  sick  woman's  respiration  had  changed. 
Every  breath  was  drawn  with  an  effort,  and  the  in- 
tervals were  irregular.  This  was  the  purport  of  the 
alarm  brought  to  the  upper  story. 

"She  don't  breathe  no  ways  natural,  and  you 
can  hear  her  all  over  the  room!" 

Restoratives  were  unavailing.  All  the  windows 
were  opened  wide  and  an  attendant  stood  beside 
the  sufferer  with  a  great  fan  that  brought  a  con- 
tinual play  of  the  cool  night  air  to  the  laboring 
lungs. 

Had  the  untamable  spirit  already  taken  its  flight  ? 
mused  the  two  watchers  whose  eyes  met  meaningly 
across  the  face  darkening  with  the  nameless,  mys- 


264       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

terious  shadow  of  dissolution.  Was  it  but  animal 
life  that  fought  with  the  last  great  enemy?  There 
was  no  sign  of  consciousness  of  the  presence  of  her 
attendants.  When,  Madam,  fancying  that  she  de- 
tected tokens  of  intelligence,  besought  her  to  take 
a  spoonful  of  brandy  held  to  the  blackened  lips, 
the  muscles  of  the  throat  did  not  contract,  and  the 
liquid  trickled  from  the  corners  of  the  mouth. 

"It  is  useless!"  pronounced  Madam,  sorrowfully, 
and  the  silence,  which  is  like  no  other  hush  that 
falls  upon  mortal  ears,  descended  upon  and  filled 
the  great  room. 

A  few  more  long  shuddering  breaths,  separated 
by  intervals  of  varying  length,  and  Madam's  hand 
pressed  down  the  lids  over  the  glazed  eyes.  By 
a  common  impulse  the  four  women  sank  to  their 
knees  and  Madam  Carrington's  voice  thrilled  the 
night  air. 

"Our  Father  in  heaven !  Thou  art  more  merciful 
than  we  can  ever  believe  or  comprehend.  Into  Thy 
loving  hands  we  commit  her  spirit.  Have  pity  upon 
her  for  Christ's  sake.  Amen!" 

A  deeper- toned  "Amen!"  sounded  at  the  door 
in  which  stood  Mahlon  Rice  and  Doctor  Graham. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE  returned  prodigal  whom  her  old  neighbors 
persisted  in  calling  "Molly  Watkins,"  although  she 
claimed  to  have  been  married  at  least  once  in  her 
checkered,  lurid  career,  breathed  her  last  in  the 
early  hours  of  Thursday  morning. 

The  burial  would  be  at  nine  o'clock  the  following 
day. 

"And  sure's  you're  born,  she'll  lay  right  along 
side  de  fam'ly,  close  to  Mars'  Paul's  wife !"  deplored 
Becca,  in  the  kitchen  cabinet.  "I  heerd  mistis  giv' 
dat  very  order  to  de  men  what's  got  to  dig  de  grave ! 
I  was  that  took  aback  I  jes'  had  to  stuff  my  apron 
in  my  mouf  and  run  out  o'  de  room.  Course,  I 
darsen't  say  a  word  aginst  it,  but  I  did  make  so 
bold  as  to  ask  Miss  'Lizabeth  if  thar  moughtn't 
be  some  mistake.  An'  says  she,  quiet  and  solemn- 
like,  'If  your  mistress  gave  the  order,  it  is  all  right.' 
She  can  be  dignerfied  too,  when  she  chooses,  an' 
I  ain't  said  another  word.  But  I  can'  help  won- 
derin'  what  marster  would  'a  said  ef  he  had  'a  knowed 
dat  po'  white-trash  an'  po'house  scum  at  dat !  would 
be  buried  in  de  same  row  wid  him  an'  his  kin !  Times 
ain't  what  they  useter  was,  chillen.  An'  Mars  Paul, 
too!  Ef  he  had  'a  been  at  home  would  he  'a  lis- 
tened to  de  idee  of  diggin'  dat  grave  right  plum  up 
aginst  dat  what  he  put  up  a  han'some  tombstone 
over  not  six  weeks  ago !" 

265 


266       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

In  the  absence  of  both  the  lords  of  the  manor, 
the  decree  of  the  mistress  of  High  Hill  was  carried 
out  to  the  letter.  The  funeral  services  would  be 
of  the  simplest  sort  consistent  with  Christian  burial. 
Early  in  the  day,  she  wrote  to  Mr.  Carter,  her  near 
neighbor,  who  was  also  one  of  the  overseers  of  the 
poor.  It  was  but  right  that  he  should  be  notified 
of  the  decease  of  the  late  tenant  of  the  almshouse. 
In  the  absence  of  her  son,  she  would  esteem  it  a 
kindness  if  he  would  be  present  at  the  interment 
on  the  morrow.  And  since  his  daughter  had  asked 
that  Helen's  stay  with  her  might  be  prolonged,  it 
might  be  well  that  her  granddaughter  should  drive 
over  with  him  to  get  the  additional  dresses  she  would 
need.  Should  Mrs.  Carter  feel  inclined  to  be  present 
at  the  funeral,  she  would  be  most  welcome.  Mr. 
Winston  had  been  apprised  of  the  decease  and  en- 
gaged to  conduct  the  services.  The  only  other  per- 
sons to  whom  a  formal  invitation  was  sent — and 
this  excited  the  ire  of  the  aforesaid  "cabinet"  almost 
to  mutinous  height — were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Horatio 
Gates  Blankenship.  Mr.  Rice  had  ridden  over  early 
in  the  forenoon  to  say  that  the  High  Hill  carriage 
would  be  sent  on  Friday  morning  to  bring  the  pair 
in  season  for  the  ceremony.  Furthermore — but 
this  was  not  known  to  the  indignant  cabal  until 
next  day — the  couple  were  to  dine  with  Madam 
and  her  family  before  returning  home.  Mr.  Rice 
offered  no  explanation  of  the  invitation.  Nor,  it 
may  be  said  here,  was  there  need  of  one.  The  blue- 
blooded  Virginia  gentleman  of  the  old  school  was 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       267 

too  secure  of  his  gentlehood  to  think  that  hospitality 
to  a  white  man  of  any  rank  could  lower  him  in  his 
own  eyes,  or  in  the  estimation  of  others  who  knew 
his  social  status.  The  color-line  had  much  to  do 
with  the  general  comprehension  of  what  seems 
strange  to  the  modern  reader.  The  most  aristo- 
cratic planter  of  that  generation — if  a  white  cabinet- 
maker, builder,  or  wheelwright,  employed  to  do 
repairs  about  the  place  were  upon  the  premises  at 
meal-time — invited  him  as  a  matter  of  course,  to 
sit  down  at  the  table,  and  partake  of  the  food  pre- 
pared for  the  household.  It  was  an  Occidental 
variation  of  the  Oriental  bread-and-salt  obligation. 
None  of  the  white  family  rebelled  at  the  presence 
of  mechanic  or  trader.  Well-trained  servants  might 
gird  secretly  at  what  they  rated  as  undue  conde- 
scension on  the  part  of  their  masters.  They  recog- 
nized the  authority  of  rooted  customs  too  well  to 
offer  a  protest. 

Friday  morning  dawned,  clear  and  cool  for  the 
late  summer.  A  funeral  meant  a  half-holiday,  and 
long  before  the  appointed  hour,  men,  women,  and 
children  in  their  Sunday  clothes  grouped  about 
the  grounds  and  the  cluster  of  buildings  flanking  at 
a  respectful  distance,  the  spacious  red  brick  man- 
sion mantled  from  foundation  to  eaves  with  ivy 
and  Virginia  creepers.  A  solemn  silence  brooded 
over  all.  Not  one  of  the  waiting  crowd  had  cared 
for  the  forlorn  "stray"  whom  the  eccentric  benev- 
olence of  their  mistress  had  brought  from  the  poor- 
house  to  die  in  her  own  chamber.  Yet  some  of  the 


268       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

younger  women  mourned  as  for  their  first-born; 
all  who  could  contrive  to  sport  a  scrap  of  black  rib- 
bon wore  it  conspicuously  and  the  elder  women  were 
clad  hi  mourning.  She  was  poor,  indeed,  and 
despised  of  her  sisters  who  did  not  own  one  black 
gown  for  "fun'ral  'casion."  None  neglected  to 
visit  the  coffin — covered  with  black  cloth  and 
studded  with  silver  nails.  "For  all  the  world  like 
she  had  been  a  lady" — Becca  whispered  to  a  crony 
in  pausing  beside  it  to  finger  the  quality  of  the  cloth. 
With  true  racial  fondness  for  "pomp  and  circum- 
stance," the  servants  formed  into  a  long  procession 
and  filed  through  the  great  hall  in  which  the  coffin 
lay  upon  trestles.  This  duty  done,  they  massed  in 
and  about  the  back  porch,  awaiting  the  signal  to 
take  up  the  march  to  the  grave.  The  main  alley  of 
the  garden  had  been  scraped  free  of  grass  and  rolled 
smooth;  the  graveyard  was  mowed  and  the  walks  be- 
tween the  mounds  were  cleaned.  Madam's  orders 
had  been  strict  and  were  implicitly  obeyed. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Carter  were  the  first  arrivals  and 
they  brought  both  girls.  Helen  flew  into  her  grand- 
mother's arms  with  a  choking  sob  which  could  not 
find  utterance  until  she  was  safe  in  Beth's  reassur- 
ing embrace: 

"Mother!  It  is  all  so  dreadful!  I  didn't  care 
for  her,  of  course,  but  somehow  I  am  as  sorry  as  if 
I  had !  I  wish  she  hadn't  called  me  that  horrid 
name  the  only  tune  she  ever  spoke  to  me !  I  wish 
I  had  made  a  chance  to  say  something  kind  to  her ! 
She  had  nobody  to  care  for  her  at  the  last !  Think 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       269 

of  dying  with  not  one  friend  to  shed  a  tear  for 
you!" 

"Hush,  my  darling!  we  will  talk  of  that  some 
other  tune.  Now — we  have  had  a  great  many  flowers 
gathered,  and  put  into  baskets  to  be  laid  upon  the 
grave.  Grandmother  would  like  to  have  you  and 
Judith  do  this  when  the  time  comes.  You  can  do 
this  little  service  for  the  poor  woman." 

Helen  caught  eagerly  at  the  proposal  and  flew 
off  to  prepare  Judith  for  her  share  in  the  task.  Beth 
looked  after  her  with  a  sigh.  She  was  thankful 
the  light-hearted  child  had  been  spared  the  ghastly 
scenes  of  those  last  days  and  hours.  Meeting  the 
grandmother's  eye  at  that  moment,  she  read  fullest 
sympathy  in  the  glance  that  followed  the  girl.  They 
two  understood  her  mercurial  temperament  and  in- 
tense moods  as  nobody  else  did — not  even  the  loving 
father.  Beth  had  not  believed  that  she  could  ever 
have  missed  any  human  being,  not  even  Paul,  as 
she  had  missed  and  longed  for  his  society  and  coun- 
sel during  the  past  week.  His  absence  lent  depth 
to  the  gloom  that  wrapped  the  homestead  like  a 
pall.  The  thought  of  the  baleful  presence  that  had 
possession  of  the  state-chamber,  and  held  the  chief 
place  in  the  talk  and  minds  of  the  household  was 
an  obsession  with  the  newly-betrothed  whose  medi- 
tations should  have  been  happily  engaged  with 
other  and  far  dissimilar  topics.  To  add  to  her  mal- 
ease,  Paul's  mother  did  not  seem  to  regard  his  ab- 
sence as  unfortunate,  or  even  as  a  drawback  to  her 
comfort.  She  moved  and  spoke  like  one  absorbed 


270       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

in  a  single  interest  to  which  every  energy  of  mind 
and  body  must  be  devoted.  Once,  and  once  only, 
Beth  had  touched  upon  what  was  never  absent  from 
her  mind: 

"If  Paul  were  at  home,  he  would  relieve  you  of 
some  of  the  cares  that  I  fear  will  wear  you  out," 
she  observed,  two  days  before  the  death  of  the 
pauper  patient.  "Nobody  can  take  his  place.'* 

"I  return  thanks  continually  that  he  is  hundreds 
of  miles  away,"  was  the  calm  reply.  "He  is  doing 
his  duty  where  he  is.  Mine  is  here !" 

Her  marvellous  physical  and  moral  forces  did 
not  flag  for  an  instant.  The  offers  of  help  on  the 
part  of  neighbors  were  declined  courteously  and 
with  the  composure  that  never  forsook  her  in  the 
sight  of  others.  The  least  important  detail  of  the 
day's  duties  was  ordered  by  her,  and  carried  out 
under  her  supervision.  It  was,  therefore,  not  an 
afterthought,  or  by  chance,  that  the  short  procession 
which  left  the  house  on  the  stroke  of  nine,  and  wound 
through  the  gate  down  the  broad  central  walk  of 
the  garden,  fell  at  once  into  order.  The  coffin  was 
borne  by  six  stalwart  field-hands. 

"You  couldn't  have  picked  out  a  more  likely 
set  of  fellows  in  the  county,"  Doctor  Graham  told 
his  wife  that  evening. 

Next  to  the  coffin  walked  Helen  and  Judith,  carry- 
ing their  baskets  of  lilies  and  roses.  Madam  fol- 
lowed, attended  by  Doctor  Graham;  next  came 
Beth  and  Mr.  Rice,  then  the  Carters,  the  Blanken- 
ships  bringing  up  the  rear.  Mr.  Winston,  Bible 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       271 

in  hand,  led  the  way  to  the  open  grave  where  waited 
the  diggers,  spades  in  hand.  Under  the  trees  out- 
lining the  area  filled  by  the  mortal  remains  of  eight 
generations  of  Carringtons,  was  a  throng  of  negroes, 
silent  and  respectful,  also  arranged  in  obedience  to 
the  mistress's  directions.  A  band  of  singers  was 
nearest  the  grave,  and  behind  these  were  seats  for 
the  aged  and  infirm,  some  of  whom  had  been  carried 
in  chairs  from  the  quarters  they  had  not  left  before 
since  the  last  plantation  funeral.  A  motley  crowd 
filled  the  background.  The  box  enclosing  the  inner 
casket  was  gently  lowered  into  its  resting-place, 
and  Mr.  Winston  read  in  sonorous  tones  that  were 
audible  to  the  outermost  ring  of  the  assembly: 

"Lord!  make  me  to  know  mine  end,  and  the 
measure  of  my  days  what  it  is,  that  I  may  know 
how  frail  I  am,"  with  the  verses  following,  ending 
with  the  passionate  outbreak,  "Oh,  spare  me  that 
I  may  recover  strength  before  I  go  hence  and  be 
no  more!" 

He  closed  the  book  and  bent  his  head.  For  a 
full  minute  stillness  reigned  over  the  crowd,  stirred 
only  by  the  whispering  of  the  summer  wind  in  the 
trees.  Then  the  ringing  tones  vibrated  through 
the  sunb right  air: 

"Our  patient,  all-merciful  Father  in  Heaven! 
We  commit  the  body  of  our  sister  to  the  earth  and 
leave  her  soul  with  Thee.  Thy  compassions  fail 
not.  In  the  name  of  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the 
Holy  Spirit,  we  lay  her  down  for  her  long  sleep. 
Dust  to  dust,  ashes  to  ashes,  earth  to  earth.'" 


272       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

The  rattle  of  three  handfuls  of  earth  falling  upon 
the  coffin  punctuated  the  last  sentence.  With  the 
first  heavy  thud  of  the  clods  shovelled  into  the  grave, 
a  mighty  volume  of  song  swelled  up  to  the  blue 
heavens: 

"'My  po'  body  lies  moulderin'  in  de  groun'. 

A-waitin'  dar  for  de  trumpet's  soun' 
Dat's  sho'  to  be  heerd  de  worl'  aroun', 

My  soul  is  marchin'  on. 
Glory!  gloryv!  hallelujah!    My  soul  goes  rnarchin'  on! 

My  body's  bound  for  de  mortar  an*  de  clay, 

A-waitin'  dar  for  de  Jedgment  Day 
My  sperrit's  boun'  for  another  way, 

My  soul  goes  marchin'  on. 
Glory !  glory !  hallelujah !    My  soul  goes  marchin'  on. 

Oh,  brothers !  don't  you  mou'n  for  me, 

For  Death's  done  sot  my  sperrit  free. 
An'  I  will  oh !  so  happy,  happy  be ! 

My  sperrit's  marchin'  on. 
Glory !  glory !  hallelujah !    My  soul  goes  marchin'  on. 

You  may  bury  me  in  de  east,  you  may  bury  me  in  de  west, 
De  Marster,  He  know  what  place  is  best, 

For  dis  po'  body  to  lie  an'  rest; 

My  soul  goes  marchin'  on. 
Glory !  glory !  hallelujah !    My  soul  goes  marchin'  on.' " 

I  have  written  the  pious  doggerel  in  the  negro 
dialect,  because,  so  far  as  I  know,  it  was  never  sung 
in  any  other. 

More  than  a  quarter  of  a  century  later,  Virginia 
soil  trembled  and  shook  beneath  the  tramp  of  armies 
marching  to  the  ring  and  beat  of  the  tune  brought 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       273 

from  darkest  Africa  by  the  enslaved  descendants 
of  dusky  kings  and  warriors.  Married  to  the  im- 
mortal "Battle  Hymn  of  the  Republic,"  it  will  in 
time  claim  a  place  among  classic  "compositions." 
It  had  its  birth  in  tropical  forests,  perhaps  a  thou- 
sand years  agone. 

As  the  grave-diggers  did  their  work,  the  spades 
kept  time  to  the  music,  and  while  they  beat  smooth 
the  turf  upon  the  mound,  the  final  chorus  was  still 
echoing  from  hills  beyond  the  river. 

When  the  workers  fell  back  at  the  word  from 
their  mistress,  she  lifted  her  hand  to  enjoin  silence, 
and  no  one  moved  as  the  two  young  girls,  white- 
robed  and  bare-headed,  knelt  to  cover  the  mounded 
turf  with  their  flowers.  Thus  far  all  had  been  done 
in  exact  obedience  to  Madam  Carrington's  instruc- 
tions. She  had  not  anticipated,  nor  had  the  child 
herself  premeditated  Helen's  action  as  the  two  girls 
arose  from  the  ground. 

The  supply  of  lilies  was  so  bountiful  that  the 
baskets  were  not  nearly  empty  when  the  mound 
was  covered.  With  characteristic  impetuosity, 
Helen  spoke  a  word  to  her  companion  and  turned 
to  the  mound  close  by  the  new-made  grave.  Then, 
with  the  rest  of  the  lilies  she  formed  swiftly  a  cross 
upon  the  grave,  at  the  head  of  which  stood  the  white 
stone  bearing  the  sharply  lettered  inscription: 

CECILS 

WIFE  OF  PAUL  CARRINGTON 
REQUIESCAT  IN  PACE 


274       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

"What  more  natural?"  commented  Mrs.  Carter, 
to  her  husband  on  the  way  to  the  house.  "She  was 
the  child's  own  mother!  It  is  lovely  to  see  that 
she  is  remembered." 

The  grandmother  kissed  Helen,  without  speaking, 
when  the  girl  stole  to  her  side  with  a  pleading:  "You 
didn't  mind — did  you?  It  just  came  to  me  all  at 
once,  and  I  couldn't  help  it!" 

Madam  held  the  child's  hand  all  the  way  back, 
and  sent  her  off  with  another  kiss,  to  her  room  "to 
see  about  putting  up  her  clean  clothes." 

The  Carters  could  not  stay  to  dinner.  Doctor 
Graham  and  Mr.  Winston  had  engagements  that 
called  them  in  other  directions.  Each  made  oc- 
casion to  say  a  kind  word  to  Rashe,  and  to  pay  his 
respects  to  Mrs.  Blankenship.  They  were  fellow- 
guests  with  themselves  in  the  house.  They  must 
be  recognized  and  treated  as  equals.  Such  were 
some  of  the  minor  shades  of  courtesy  that  made 
up  "perfect  breeding"  in  their  social  code. 

Before  separating,  the  little  party  lingered  in 
the  cool  shade  of  the  vine-curtained  porch  to  talk 
over  the  little  drama  that  had  had  its  last  act  in 
the  burial  scene.  "Molly  Watkins"  had  been  a 
notable  figure  in  county  society,  and  her  career  was 
recalled  now  in  detail. 

"The  saddest  story  that  has  ever  come  into  my 
life  as  a  pastor,"  said  Mr.  Winston.  "It  is  a  mys- 
tery and  a  tragedy  throughout.  Who  could  have 
forecast  such  a  fate  for  her?" 

While  he  spoke  there  was  borne  to  them  the  bil- 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       275 

lowy  melody  of  the  barbaric  folk-song  from  the  dis- 
tant "quarters."  The  negroes  had  filed  across  the 
foot  of  the  garden  after  the  benediction,  keeping 
time  to  the  measures  still  sounding  in  their  ears. 
It  was  evident  now  that  a  prayer-meeting  on  their 
own  account  was  in  progress.  The  company  on 
the  porch  stopped  talking  until  the  last  strains  pulsed 
into  stillness. 

"Like  the  grounds  well  of  the  tide!"  said  Mr. 
Rice,  softly.  And,  Mr.  Winston:  "They  would 
be  horrified  if  they  were  compared  to  the  Roman 
Catholics,  but  is  not  the  service  they  are  carrying 
on  now  very  like  a  Mass  for  the  departed  soul?" 

A  rejoinder  was  projected  into  the  conversation 
by  Mrs.  Blankenship:  "Oh,  Mr.  Winston!  I  know 
they  are  full  of  superstitions,  but  they  ain't  quite 
heathens!" 

"You  are  right,  my  dear  Madam,  yet  I  confess 
I  have  sometimes  been  tempted  to  wish  that  our 
prayers  could  follow  sinning  souls  into  the  next 
world.  It  is  fearful  to  think  that  any  soul  God  has 
made  is  ever  beyond  the  reach  of  our  love  and  prayer. 
But  I  have  no  time  to  discuss  doctrine  and  possible 
heresies."  He  rose  with  a  genial  smile.  "Madam 
Carrington !  I  trust  the  excitement  and  fatigue  of 
the  past  few  days  have  not  been  too  much  for  you. 
Doctor !  you  must  prescribe  a  tonic  and  rest." 

He  shook  hands  all  around,  and  the  Carters  fol- 
lowed him. 

"They  underestimate  my  strength,"  remarked 
Madam,  settling  herself  in  her  rocking-chair,  and 


276       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

reaching,  as  from  the  force  of  habit,  for  the  knitting- 
bag  hung  upon  the  back.  "  Mr.  Blankenship !  I 
am  going  to  pass  you  over  presently  into  Mr.  Rice's 
hands  while  Mrs.  Blankenship  and  I  discuss  some 
domestic  matters  that  would  not  interest  either  of 
you.  I  have  been  thinking  a  good  deal  lately  of 
two  young  girls  who  are  in  your  charge,  and  who 
ought  not  to  remain  the  burden  they  must  be  to 
both  of  you.  I  mean  the  Jones  sisters.  I  should 
be  glad  to  use  a  little  influence  I  have  in  the  Fred- 
ericksburg  Orphan  Asylum  to  get  them  into  that 
institution.  I  suppose  the  question  must  go  before 
the  overseers  of  the  poor  before  final  arrangements 
can  be  made.  But  I  did  not  like  to  speak  of  it  to 
any  one  else  before  consulting  you." 

"Thank  you,  Ma'am!"  responded  the  flattered 
Rashe.  "As  you  say,  them  gals  is  old  enough  to 
know  somethin'  more  than  that  mother  of  thurn  ken 
learn  them." 

By  the  tune  he  had  expatiated  at  length  upon 
the  values  of  education  and  "nice  behavior"  for 
women,  and  the  total  unfitness  of  "that  ar'  Chaney 
Jones"  to  impart  so  much  as  the  rudiments  of  these 
to  her  offspring,  Madam  thought  it  expedient  to 
consult  her  watch: 

"Is  it  possible  that  it  is  eleven  o'clock?  Eliza- 
beth, my  dear,  tell  Tom  to  bring  a  glass  of  shrub 
for  these  gentlemen  before  they  set  out  for  a  walk 
through  the  poultry-yard  and  the  garden  and 
orchard.  Mr.  Blankenship  is  so  much  interested 
in  such  things  that  we  must  allow  them  plenty  of 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       277 

time.  Then,  you  have  letters  to  write,  I  know — " 
with  a  gleam  of  the  eye  which  Beth  understood — 
"and  Mrs.  Blankenship  and  I  will  have  our  chat." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

MADAM  CARRINGTON'S  programme  was  carried  out 
to  the  letter.  After  Beth  had  passed  the  iced  draft 
with  her  own  hands  to  the  two  men  and  seen  them 
stroll  across  the  yard,  pipe  in  mouth,  toward  the 
hennery  and  gardens,  she  smilingly  excused  herself 
and  left  the  hostess  and  her  guest  to  then*  "chat." 

Mrs.  Blankenship,  mightily  refreshed  by  the 
"shrub"  and  slice  of  sponge  cake,  the  more  grateful 
since,  as  she  informed  the  company,  she  had  "eat 
next  to  no  breakfast,  being  that  excited  at  thought 
of  what  was  to  be  done  that  day — "  had  never  been 
more  entirely  at  her  ease  in  spirit  and  in  flesh,  than 
when  she  lay  back  in  the  cushioned  rocker,  her  feet 
upon  the  stool  Beth  had  adroitly  insinuated  under 
them,  and  the  great  lady  of  the  county — "a-sittin' 
'longside  o'  me,  with  her  knittin'  as  sociable  an' 
easy  as  an  ole  shoe."  This  to  her  sister  when 
catechised  by  her  as  to  the  eventful  day.  "Tain't 
the  real  germwine  quality  what  takes  on  airs." 

Madam's  talk  began  with  comments  upon  the 
few  belongings  of  the  dead  woman,  and  the  dis- 
position to  be  made  of  them. 

"It  was  kind  and  thoughtful  hi  you  to  pack  her 
trunk  and  send  it  with  her,"  she  said.  "I  suppose 
she  brought  little,  if  anything  else,  back  to  Virginia 
with  her  ?  I  am  surprised  that  she  kept  any  clothes 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       279 

worth  having,  if  all  she  told  of  her  poverty  were 
true.  There  were  some  articles  of  underwear  of 
fair  quality  and  not  much  worn,  besides  handker- 
chiefs and  stockings.  I  shall  have  everything  washed 
and  mended  and  sent  back  to  you  with  your  permis- 
sion. You  may  have  no  use  for  them  yourself,  but 
you  may  find  some  poor  person  who  would  like  to 
have  them." 

"That's  more  than  likely,"  interposed  Betsey. 
"Some  of  the  poppers  would  jump  out  of  their  skin 
with  joy  to  have  a  collar  or  a  handkerchief  or  a  pa'r 
o'  stockings.  You  see  I  sent  her  underclo'es,  think- 
in'  some  on'  em  mought  do  to  lay  her  out  in ' 

The  flow  of  words  was  arrested  by  a  negative 
gesture  of  Madam's  shapely  hand. 

"That  was  considerate — and  what  might  be  ex- 
pected of  you.  But  there  was  little  time  for  mend- 
ing and  washing  them,  or  for  looking  over  the  con- 
tents of  the  trunk.  My  niece  Elizabeth  and  I  could 
spare  whatever  was  needed,  and  we  were  more  than 
willing  to  supply  the  burial  garments." 

Mrs.  Betsey  had  an  ear  for  what  she  characterized 
as  "genteel  talk,"  and  "burial  garments"  accorded 
well  with  what  Becca  had  made  a  chance  to  confide 
to  her:  to  wit,  that  "She  was  shrouded  in  one  of 
the  mistis's  best  nightgowns — linen,  and  trimmed 
with  sure  'nough  lace."  There  was  no  saying  into 
what  extravagances  the  whims  of  the  "quality" 
might  lead  them. 

Mrs.  Blankenship  got  in  her  reserved  bit  of  in- 
formation just  here: 


280       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

"Thar  was  one  thing  I  meant  to  'a-spoke  about 
before.  She  hadn't  no  books  fur  to  speak  of.  Jest 
a  few  old  trashy  novels  an'  the  like  she  used  to  read 
herself  to  sleep  over,  oj  rainy  days  an'  of  a  Sunday 
when  thar  was  nobody  to  amuse  her.  Thar  was 
one  real  funny  ole  book — pretty  nigh  as  big  as  a 
Bible,  that  she  kep'  in  the  trunk  most  times.  Oncet 
in  a  while  I'd  come  upon  her  suddent-like,  and  ketch 
her  a-readin'  of  it.  Sometimes  she'd  be  a-writin' 
on  one  of  the  leaves.  I  ast  her  one  tune  ef  t'was  a 
receipt-book  she  was  makin'.  With  that  she  laughed 
right  out,  and,  sez  she,  'You've  hit  it  this  time!' 
It's  a  receipt  for  makin'  devil's  broth  that  I'm  gettin' 
up.  Thar '11  be  the  devil  to  pay  when  it's  done/ 
With  that  she  shows  me  the  outside  of  the  book,  an* 
thar  was  a  big  brass  cross  on  the  side.  An'  sez  she, 
'  That's  a  charm  to  keep  fools  from  meddlin'  with 
the  broth  before  I've  finished  it ! '  I  declar  the  way 
she  said  it  made  my  blood  run  cold.  Some  days 
she  was  as  crazy  as  a  March  hare !  So,  when  I  come 
upon  the  book  in  the  bottom  of  the  trunk,  I  felt  's 
if  I  wouldn't  tech  it  with  a  pa'r  o'  tongs.  That  ugly 
cross  looked  so  wicked !  I  allers  did  hate  the 
Catholics,  an'  it  popped  into  my  head,  when  she 
said  that  about  the  charm,  she  mought  be  one.  Ef 
she  was,  out  o'  my  house  she'd  go,  no  matter  what 
Rashe  mought  have  to  say.  He  was  fa'rly  bewitched 
about  her  sometimes.  I  put  the  question  right  at 
her:  'Maybe  you're  a  Catholic?'  I  sez,  out  bold. 
She  give  another  squeal : 

"  'Me!  devil  a  bit  of  it!    I  picked  that  up  in  a 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       281 

shop  in  Rome.  They  tole  me  of  the  charm,  you  see.' 
So,  as  I  was  a'  sayin',  when  I  come  upon  the  nasty 
book  in  the  trunk  I'd  a  great  mind  to  take  it  to  the 
kitchen  an'  burn  it  up.  Then,  thinks  I,  'After  all, 
it  ain't  my  property,  and  it  mought  be  onlucky  to 
fool  with  it — if  what  she  sez  is  half-way  true/  I 
wropped  it  up  in  a  newspaper,  and  laid  it  back  in 
the  far  corner  of  the  bottom  of  the  trunk  an'  packed 
all  the  other  things  on  top  of  it.  You'll  find  it  thar, 
onless  some  of  the  niggers  may  a'  been  foolin'  with 
the  things." 

"I  found  it  when  I  unpacked  the  trunk  the  day 
she  came."  Madam  had  been  re-winding  a  ball  of 
knitting  cotton  that  did  not  seem  to  suit  her.  Her 
hands  and  voice  were  steady  as  she  took  up  the 
stocking  she  was  at  work  upon.  "It  is  what  is  called 
a  Roman  Breviary — very  old  and  perhaps  valuable 
upon  that  account.  It  is  written  in  Latin,  and,  no 
doubt,  belonged  to  some  Roman  Catholic  priest. 
Travellers  in  foreign  lands  pick  up  such  things  and 
bring  them  home  as  curiosities.  Some  time  I  must 
think  to  show  the  book  to  Mr.  Rice.  He  knows 
more  of  such  things  than  I  do." 

Mrs.  Rashe  giggled:  "He's  a  preacher,  and  ain't 
afeered  to  handle  what  may  be  ' charmed'  for  what 
we  know.  As  I  said,  I  wouldn't  'a'  teched  it  with  a 
pa'r  o'  tongs.  Without  they  was  red-hot." 

Madam  smiled  good-humored  toleration  of  the 
superstition : 

"I  wish  I  could  make  you  comprehend,  Mrs. 
Blankenship,  how  we  all  appreciate  your  great  kind- 


282       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

ness  to  the  unfortunate  woman  whom  we  buried 
to-day.  She  was  a  stranger  and  you  took  her  in, 
sick  and  friendless,  and  you  ministered  unto  her. 
Our  Lord  promised  an  especial  blessing  to  those 
who  do  these  things." 

Betsey's  handkerchief  went  up  to  her  eyes  and 
she  sniffed  loudly.  Madam's  knitting-needles  clicked 
evenly  until  her  visitor's  emotion  subsided.  Betsey 
belonged  to  a  class  which  may  still  be  found  in  cer- 
tain provincial  regions,  who  consider  it  comely  and 
reverent  to  pay  the  tribute  of  watery  emotion  to 
"Bible  talk,"  whenever  introduced  into  conversa- 
tion. It  was  not  a  violent  transition  when  Madam 
Carrington  led  the  talk  to  the  every-day  works  and 
ways  of  the  motley  crew  over  whom  Betsey  and 
her  spouse  presided. 

By  the  time  the  inspectors  of  gardens,  orchard, 
and  poultry-yard  returned,  hot  and  tired,  dinner 
was  ready.  The  guests  did  not  suspect  that  it  was 
served  an  hour  earlier  than  was  the  High  Hill  cus- 
tom because  the  hostess  knew  one  o'clock  to  be 
the  time  at  which  the  two  were  used  to  take  the 
heaviest  meal  of  the  day.  It  was  hospitable  to  make 
the  concession  to  plebeian  habits,  and  tactful  not 
to  let  them  know  why  the  change  was  made. 

Madam  had  her  confidential  comment  upon  the 
alteration  in  the  daily  routine  when,  at  three  o'clock, 
the  carriage  received  the  gratified  Blankenships 
and  rolled  down  the  avenue. 

"They  have  dinner  at  one,  or  maybe  half  past 
twelve  at  home,"  she  remarked,  a  half-tone  of  weari- 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       283 

ness  in  her  voice.  "It  was  convenient,  moreover, 
to  me  to-day  for  I  must  rest  for  a  little  while  before 
I  have  a  somewhat  important  business-talk  with 
you,  Mr.  Rice. 

"May  I  trouble  you  to  step  into  my  room  for  a 
minute?" 

The  spacious  chamber  had  been  literally  swept 
and  garnished  in  the  last  twenty-hour  hours.  It 
had  never  worn  a  fairer  aspect  to  Mr.  Rice's  eyes 
than  when  he  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  and 
looked  about  him  at  the  changed  aspect  of  the 
whilome  hospital  ward. 

Sheer,  crisp  curtains  were  looped  back  from  the 
windows;  the  hangings  of  the  white  bed  were  again 
in  place;  the  folding-screen  had  disappeared;  the 
table  and  reading-lamp  it  had  concealed  were  at 
the  other  end  of  the  room.  Fresh  covers  were  upon 
the  cushions  of  chair  and  window-seats.  Not  a 
vestige  of  the  scenes  which  had  kept  nerves  and 
sympathies  on  the  rack  remained.  The  air  swept 
freely  through  the  chamber,  faintly  and  deliciously 
scented  by  the  roses  abloom  about  the  porch. 

"All  that  has  passed  in  the  last  fortnight  might 
be  a  bad  dream !"  said  the  Little  Minister,  half  aloud 
as  Madam  Carrington  bade  him  "Sit  down!  I 
have  something  that  must  be  said  to  you  without 
further  delay." 

In  saying  it,  she  took  a  chair  facing  him  and  he 
was  instantly  impressed  by  the  seriousness  of  her 
manner  and  tone. 

She  was  never  florid.    Neither  had  her  complexion 


284       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

the  hue  of  fine  old  ivory  which  sometimes  marks  the 
approach  of  age  in  complexions  that  were  once  fair 
and  delicate.  But  her  pallor  now  was  startling. 
There  were  shadows  under  the  dark  eyes  that  were 
not  there  an  hour  ago.  Her  voice  had  a  hard  timbre 
he  had  never  heard  in  it  before. 

In  her  hand  was  a  parcel  done  up  in  white  paper — 
apparently  a  book  or  a  box.  Her  ringers  were  taut 
upon  it  as  she  went  on: 

"This  book  was  in  the  trunk  brought  from  the 
poorhouse.  Thanks  to  Mrs.  Blankenship's  super- 
stitious fears,  she  did  not  open  it.  It  has  a  cross 
on  one  side  which  she  took  to  be  a  proof  that  the 
owner  was  a  Roman  Catholic. 

"As  you  will  see,  the  cross  has  nothing  to  do  with 
the  contents.  I  am  morally  certain  that  nobody 
has  read  what  is  written  here  except  myself.  No 
other  eyes  beside  yours  and  mine  must  ever  read 
a  word  of  it.  You  will  understand  why  I  say  this, 
and  agree  with  me  when  you  have  mastered  the 
manuscript.  You  will  be  surprised  and  horrified 
at  what  you  will  see  here.  One  thing  you  should 
know  before  I  pass  the  book  over  to  you.  One  reason 
why  I  select  you  as  my  only  confidant  of  the  in- 
credible story  is,  you  have  a  right  to  know  that  the 
woman  who  died  in  that  bed,  and  was  buried  in  the 
Carrington  graveyard  to-day  was  not  what  she  pro- 
fessed to  be.  She  was  not  Mary  Watkins — although 
you  will  learn  something  here  of  her  life  and  death. 
I  tell  you  this,  because  I  do  not  wish  to  spring  the 
strange  truth  upon  you  without  notice. 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       285 

"  Will  you  take  that  to  the  office  and  read  it  from 
beginning  to  end?  It  is  now  half  past  three.  If 
you  will  let  me  come  to  you  at  half  past  four,  we 
will  discuss  the  matter  calmly.  As  I  have  said, 
there  is  no  other  person  living  to  whom  I  would 
entrust  it  for  an  instant." 

He  arose  when  she  set  back  her  chair  as  a  token 
that  the  conference  was  at  an  end,  and  received 
the  parcel  from  her  hand.  Literally  stricken  dumb 
by  the  astounding  preamble — mysterious  as  astound- 
ing— he  could  only  express  his  acquiescence  in  her 
will  and  obedience  to  her  behest. 

Bowing  again,  deeply  and  silently,  as  they  parted, 
he  took  his  way  to  the  office,  meeting  and  seeing 
no  one  in  the  shaded  path.  His  door  stood  wide 
open.  It  was  seldom  shut  in  fine  weather,  this  corner 
of  the  yard  being  secluded  from  other  parts  of  the 
grounds.  He  closed  it  instinctively  hi  entering, 
and  as  mechanically  turned  the  key  in  the  lock. 
But  one  thought  took  shape  in  his  mind  in  the  con- 
fusion wrought  by  the  amazing  communication  to 
which  he  had  hearkened:  He  must  not  share  the 
secret  which  he  was  to  learn  with  anybody.  No 
one  must  know  that  it  had  been  committed  to  him. 
The  sunshine,  streaming  through  the  western  win- 
dows, flooded  him  as  he  seated  himself  just  where 
Paul  Carrington  had  sat  on  that  rainy  afternoon, 
less  than  a  month  ago,  and  poured  into  his  friend's 
ears  the  story  of  the  grievous  burden  that  had 
cramped  his  young  manhood.  The  memory  came 
back  vaguely  to  Mahlon  Rice  as  he  undid  the  twine 


286       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

binding  the  parcel  and  stripped  off  the  paper.  His 
subconscious  self  put  a  question  as  he  did  this: 

Why  should  this  dark  and  direful  mystery  be 
revealed  to  him  instead  of  to  the  son  Madam  idolized 
and  trusted  beyond  all  other  counsellors?  Why 
was  her  chaplain  explicitly  informed  that  he  was 
not  to  share  the  revelation  with  another  living 
creature  ? 

The  problem  was  still  uppermost  in  his  perturbed 
brain  when  the  book  was  uncovered. 

It  was,  he  saw  at  a  glance,  an  ancient  Roman 
Breviary,  worn  and  dingy  except  where  the  brass 
cross  in  bold  relievo  had  been  burnished  as  by  re- 
peated rubbings.  The  owner  had  apparently  at- 
tached peculiar  sacredness  to  the  emblem.  About 
fifty  printed  leaves  at  the  front  and  back  of  the 
volume  had  been  neatly  pared  away  to  within  an 
inch  of  the  margins.  The  rest  had  been  removed 
entirely  and  the  space  left  was  filled  with  letter- 
paper,  trimmed  to  the  size  of  the  missing  leaves. 
It  was  an  ingenious  device,  the  outer  pages  forming 
a  firm  frame  for  the  interpolated  matter.  This  was 
covered  with  written  characters,  all  done  by  the 
same  hand,  although  the  manuscript  in  some  parts 
was  irregular  as  if  penned  under  excitement  or  by 
feeble  ringers. 

His  bewilderment  unabated,  the  one  man  to  whom 
Madam  Carrington  was  willing  to  reveal  the  dis- 
covery forced  upon  her  by  fate,  began  at  the  top 
of  the  outermost  page. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

AND  this  is  what  he  read  in  the  dancing  lights  cast 
athwart  the  pages  by  the  August  sun,  laughing 
through  the  leaves  of  the  acacia-tree  outside  of  the 
window.  This,  what  had  been  read  in  the  dead  of 
night  by  the  light  of  her  shaded  lamp,  behind  the 
folding-screen,  during  Madam  Carrington's  first  vigil 
in  the  sick-room. 

"To  Madam  Paulina  Carrington,  alias  Mrs.  Ed- 
mund Travers  Carrington  (otherwise  'Et  Cetera'), 
Lady  of  the  Manor  of  High  Hill  and  High  Priestess 
of  the  Church  and  Parish  of  Mount  Hor,  Opecan- 
canough  County,  State  of  Virginia,  United  States  of 
North  America. 

"I  am  writing  this  on  shipboard,  bound  for 
America.  This  is  the  first  stage  of  the  third  earthly 
existence  upon  which  I  have  entered.  I  have  had 
Christian  burial  for  the  second  tune,  but  in  a  for- 
eign land  under  the  patronage  of  the  American  con- 
sul who  has  forwarded  to  your  impeccable  son  the 
legal  certificate  of  my  demise. 

"I  am  once  more  free  to  carry  out  my  own  plans 
without  interference  from  any  mortal  man — or 
woman ! 

"Your  son  and  henchman  has  perhaps  told  you 
what  my  brother,  acting  as  my  agent,  confided  to 
him  as  the  preliminary  to  the  system  of  blackmail 
that  we  carried  on  successfully  for  five  years.  You 

287 


288       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

have  then  known  long  ago  that  the  coffin  laid  away 
under  the  auspices  of  your  Presbyterian  Shepherd 
of  souls,  did  not  contain  human  remains.  You  have 
helped  the  immaculate  Paul  keep  a  secret  that  would 
have  left  a  big  smear  across  the  Carrington  es- 
cutcheon and  made  your  majesty  the  laughing-stock 
of  the  whole  State. 

"It  was  an  audacious  stroke,  but  it  worked  well. 
Armande,  my  clever  brother,  was  my  kindred  spirit. 
We  laughed  together  many  tunes  over  his  master- 
piece. He  had  the  money — all  of  it.  As  Mrs.  Jules 
Dupont,  the  wife  of  one  of  the  richest  planters  in 
the  West  Indies,  who  was  frantically  in  love  with 
me,  I  needed  no  pecuniary  aid.  My  second  matri- 
monial venture  was  more  brilliant  than  the  first. 
I  need  not  remind  you  what  a  despicable  failure 
that  was.  For  three  years  I  was  like  an  eagle  chained 
in  a  mud-puddle.  And  how  I  hated  the  man  who 
had  tricked  me  into  it  by  stories  of  his  baronial  halls 
and  ample  income!  It  enrages  and  sickens  me  to 
think  of  it ! 

"Well!  for  ten  years  we  had  our  swing — Jules 
and  I — on  both  sides  of  the  ocean.  You  wouldn't 
be  interested  hi  the  details,  and  I  can't  trust  my- 
self to  think  of  the  happiest  period  of  my  life. 

"Then,  my  husband  died,  and  by  some  unac- 
countable oversight  on  his  part,  he  had  failed  to 
make  a  will,  or  if  it  were  made,  it  was  never  found. 
His  scoundrelly  sisters,  who  had  been  madly  jealous 
of  me,  came  forward  with  the  demand  that  my  mar- 
riage to  their  brother  be  proved,  and  with  assertions 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       289 

that  I  was  neither  widow  nor  divorcee,  when  I  claimed 
to  have  married  him.  There  was  a  terrible  fight — 
and  it  ended  in  a  compromise.  I  had  to  take  my 
lawyer  into  full  confidence,  and  he  advised  me  to 
suppress  the  facts  in  the  case,  and  let  him  get  me 
out  of  the  scrape  as  best  he  could.  To  avoid  the 
publicity  and  expense  of  a  lawsuit,  the  crafty  women 
offered  to  pay  me  a  given  sum  if  I  would  not  inter- 
fere with  the  course  of  the  law,  which  made  them 
legatees  of  the  entire  estate.  Thanks  to  the  manner 
of  life  that  suited  us  both,  this  same  estate  was  less 
than  one-half  of  the  plunder  they  expected  to  secure. 
But  they  had  to  be  content  with  what  they  got. 
As  for  me,  I  faced  the  fact  that  I  must  now  spend 
hundreds  where  I  had  been  used  to  spending  thou- 
sands. I  took  the  pitiful  sum  remaining  after  that 
rascally  lawyer  had  his  fee,  and  began  life  anew. 

"I  will  not  bore  you  with  the  incidents  of  the 
next  three  years.  The  recital  would  disgust  you, 
even  more  than  my  dancing  and  theatre-going  and 
other  vagaries  used  to  vex  your  righteous  soul. 

"It  may  interest  you  somewhat  to  hear  that  dur- 
ing a  visit  to  Tallahassee,  Florida,  I  encountered, 
by  the  oddest  chance  imaginable,  my  old  neighbor 
and  admirer,  'Molly*  Watkins.  She  told  me  her 
story — a  wretched  affair  from  first  to  last. 

"Of  course  you  do  not  credit  me — you  never 
did — with  having  so  much  as  a  rag  of  conscience, 
or  what  you  would  call,  'natural  affection.'  So 
you  will  probably  attribute  to  other  causes  the  cir- 
cumstance that  I  had  certain  queer  qualms  when 


290       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

the  poor  creature  reminded  me  that  we  were  '  inti- 
mate friends'  when  I  lived  in  Virginia,  and  how 
she  'fairly  worshipped  me  and  was  never  so  flattered 
by  anything  she  ever  heard  as  when  she  was  called 
like  Mrs.  Paul  Carrington.'  There  was  a  resem- 
blance— as  you  may  recall — in  height,  complexion, 
and  in  some  features.  She  confessed  that  she  had 
tried  to  copy  my  manner  and  speech,  and  had  been 
told  over  and  over  that  she  had  succeeded.  In  fact, 
she  had  been  my  parasite  and  was  really  fond  of 
me  in  her  way. 

"The  upshot  of  the  matter  was  that  we  joined 
our  forces — such  as  they  were — and  set  out  to  seek 
our  fortunes  in  company.  These  took  us  by  hook 
and  by  crook  to  the  other  side  of  the  world.  We 
managed  to  see  foreign  countries  together,  and  had 
some  marvellous  experiences  in  those  three  years. 
Our  longest  stay  was  in  a  miserable  lodging-house 
in  Genoa.  My  companion  fell  ill  that  winter  and 
was  not  well  enough  to  'move  on/  if  we  had  cared 
to  travel. 

"The  night  she  died  the  brightest  idea  of  my  life 
came  to  me. 

"I  had  died  once,  and  improved  my  fortunes 
immensely  by  the  act.  Why  not  die  again,  and 
be  buried  decently  and  officially?  My  invaluable 
memory  had  brought  to  me  the  recollection  that 
the  present  American  consul  in  Genoa  was  an  old 
acquaintance  of  your  son.  Indeed,  we  had  met 
him  at  the  White  Sulphur  Springs  the  summer  I 
was  there  for  my  health.  He  had  had  the  merest 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       291 

glimpse  of  me,  but  he  would  recollect  his  former 
classmate  and  be  kind  to  any  compatriot. 

"So,  I  wrote  to  him  over  the  signature  of  'Mary 
Watkins,'  of  the  death  of  my  travelling-companion, 
Mrs.  Jules  Dupont,  a  native  of  Opecancanough 
County,  Virginia,  although  she  had  not  lived  there 
for  many  years.  She  was  a  near  connection  of  Paul 
Carrington  of  High  Hill  in  the  same  county. 

"The  scheme  worked  to  a  charm!  He  called 
upon  Miss  Mary  Watkins,  engaged  to  see  to  all 
the  matters  connected  with  the  obsequies  of  the 
late  Mrs.  Jules  Dupont,  and  was  'almost  sure  he 
had  seen  me  somewhere  years  ago.  He  had  a  most 
pleasant  recollection  of  Paul  Carrington  and  the 
highest  respect  for  the  family.' 

"I  accounted  for  the  fancied  resemblance  by 
suggesting  that  he  'may  have  met  Mrs.  Dupont 
upon  a  visit  to  Opecancanough  County,  and  that 
we  were  said  to  look  alike  although  there  was  no 
relationship.' 

"I  also  said  that  I  had  heard  her  speak  often 
and  affectionately  of  the  Carringtons,  and  I  was 
sure  they  would  be  grateful  for  news  of  her.  I  was 
not  personally  acquainted  with  them,  having  re- 
sided so  long  abroad,  first  as  a  governess  in  Paris, 
latterly,  as  friend  and  companion  to  my  deceased 
country  woman.  My  name  need  not  be  mentioned 
in  the  correspondence.  He  swallowed  the  bait, 
hook  and  all,  as  you  know  from  the  official  and 
friendly  letters  your  son  received  from  the  con- 
sulate. 


292       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

"I  chanced  once  to  overhear  you  say  to  your 
blessed  son,  'Your  wife  is  the  cleverest,  most  bril- 
liant woman  I  have  ever  known.' 

"I  giggled  then.  I  am  laughing  outright  now 
in  reckoning  up  the  stock  with  which  I  am  begin- 
ning the  world  for  the  fourth  time — counting  my 
birth  as  a  baby,  as  one.  What  you  Virginians  would 
call  the  'smartest  thing'  I  ever  did  came  about  by 
the  accident  of  seeing  the  tattooed  arm  of  an  Italian 
peddler  who  had  been  a  sailor.  He  called  to  offer 
his  wares  to  me  a  week  after  Molly's  death.  Like 
a  flash,  the  sight  of  the  marks  brought  to  me  the 
recollection  of  the  initials  upon  Molly's  shoulder, 
the  story  of  which  I  had  heard  often.  I  asked  the 
man  where  I  could  be  tattooed,  making  a  joke  of 
the  wish.  He  answered  that  he  could  do  it;  that 
he  had  been  employed  by  other  foreigners  to  tattoo 
them.  'American  Forestieri  had  strange  fancies, 
and  plenty  of  money.' 

"I  engaged  him  out  of  hand  to  tattoo  two  letters 
upon  my  shoulder,  and  paid  him  four  lires  for  the 
job. 

"I  imagined  that  the  letters  might  be  of  use  in 
the  drama  I  had  already  forecast.  For  I  am  bound 
for  my  native  shores  as  the  vagrant  Molly  Watkins, 
and  I  shall  prosecute  my  claims  upon  you,  madam, 
and  my  ci-devant  husband,  under  this  disguise. 

"I  shall  make  my  way  into  the  county,  and  lie 
in  wait  somewhere  in  the  humblest  house  I  can  find, 
where  I  will  not  be  recognized,  until,  as  orphaned 
and  unfriended  Molly  Watkins,  I  learn  all  that  I 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       293 

would  know  of  the  present  status  of  the  'royal  line 
of  Carringtons'  (that  is  what  I  heard  it  called  in 
dead  earnest  by  one  of  your  tribe). 

"If  the  man  who  is  still  my  husband  had  taken 
to  himself  another  wife,  I  should  be  exceeding  glad 
of  the  chance  to  bleed  him  of  his  last  dollar,  or,  if 
he  refused  to  buy  me  off,  to  make  him  and  his  royal 
line  a  stench  in  the  nostrils  of  the  community  which 
is  his  world. 

"That  was  my  well-concerted  plan  before  I  took 
passage  for  America.  It  is  still  my  rooted  purpose 
now  that  we  are  six  days  out.  I  have  never  learned 
how  to  save  money,  and  the  scanty  sum  I  have 
contrived  to  reserve  for  this  expedition  represents 
my  last  cent  hi  the  game  of  living. 

"Should  I  not  live  to  reach  my  destination  you 
may  perhaps  get  this.  When  I  am  once  on  Vir- 
ginia soil,  I  will  take  measures  to  ensure  its  delivery 
to  you. 

"For  I  hate  you  with  a  hatred  I  have  never  felt 
for  another  human  being !  You  foiled  my  ambition 
at  every  point.  The  man  who  was  my  slave  before 
he  took  me  to  the  home  over  which  I  had  supposed 
I  was  to  reign  a  queen — took  your  sovereignty  as 
a  thing  to  be  expected.  He  was  stunned  when  he 
found  that  I  was  dissatisfied  with  a  secondary  place 
in  the  household,  and  not  disposed  to  submit  to 
your  despotic  rule. 

"Your  show  of  resignation  to  the  plight  into  which 
he  had  plunged  you,  did  not  blind  me  for  a  second. 
When  I  dashed  wildly  into  social  dissipations,  un- 


294       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

heard  of  by  the  ninety-and-nine  righteous  who  were 
the  elite  of  your  petty  court,  you  refrained  from 
open  opposition.  Do  you  imagine  that  I  did  not  see 
through  your  scheme  to  strengthen  your  hold  upon 
your  subservient  son  by  apparent  indulgence  of 
my  excesses?  I  read  it  all  as  clearly  as  if  you  had 
fought  me  hi  the  open  field,  instead  of  manoeuvring 
to  circumvent  me.  We  made  no  pretense  of  friend- 
liness— you  and  I,  as  you  know,  while  keeping  up 
a  show  of  civility  in  society  at  large. 

"I  hope  you  comprehended  why  and  how  heartily 
I  hated  you,  your  works  and  ways — and  finally  the 
son  who  had  tricked  me  into  bondage. 

"Upon  him,  at  least,  I  can  wreak  my  vengeance, 
should  the  fates  grant  that  I  find  him  alive  and  en- 
joying the  smug  respectability  paid  for  by  the  black- 
mail cunningly  extracted  by  my  brother  and  fellow- 
conspirator.  He  shall  pay  with  his  heart's  blood 
for  every  humiliation  he  has  made  me  suffer.  The 
debt  rolled  up  against  him  in  all  these  last  years  of 
comparative  indigence  and  Bohemianism,  is  not  to 
be  cancelled  by  money." 

(Several  blank  pages  intervened  before  the  manu- 
script was  resumed.) 


"Poor house  Pension :  H.  G.  Blankenship,  pro- 
prietor, July  third,  184- 

"The  plot  thickens !  I  am  installed  in  these  aris- 
tocratic precincts,  in  high  favor  with  my  host,  and 
tolerated  by  his  wife. 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       295 

"My  identity,  as  the  adventurous  vagabond 
Molly  Watkins,  is  established  beyond  the  shadow 
of  a  doubt.  I  had  a  rheumatic  twinge  in  my  shoulder 
the  night  of  my  arrival  and  begged  'Betsey'  to  rub 
it  with  some  liniment  she  recommended  as  a  'sure 
and  certain  cure  for  rheumatiz.'  She  espied  the 
tattooing,  and  got  the  tale  of  how  my  sailor-brother 
had  persuaded  me  to  let  him  do  it  when  I  was  a 
girl.  One  or  two  of  the  elect  ninety-and-nine  have 
driven  to  the  door  to  inquire  into  the  rumor  that 
the  reprobate  of  the  flock  has  taken  refuge  in  the 
poorhouse.  But  no  offer  of  rescue  and  conversion 
was  made  until  to-day,  when  your  magnificent  son 
and  heir  caused  a  terrible  commotion  among  the 
herded  swine  here  by  bringing  in  person  a  message 
from  your  sublime  self! 

"I  fled  up  to  my  wretched  room  at  the  first  alarm, 
and  watched  him  from  my  window,  screened  by 
the  cotton  curtain.  Tune  has  dealt  more  mercifully 
with  him  than  might  have  been  expected  in  a  dis- 
consolate widower.  As  I  took  in  every  detail  of  his 
appearance  and  manner  as  he  sat  at  his  ease  under 
the  trees,  conversing  in  his  most  polished  style  with 
the  superintendent  of  the  almshouse  who  had  taken 
me  in  and  lodged  and  fed  me  as  a  beggar — do  you 
wonder  that  I  cursed  him  and  you  in  my  hot  heart  ? 
My  hostess  who  admires  him  immensely  tells  me 
he  is  likely  to  marry  your  ward  Elizabeth  Moore. 
(The  pen  cut  through  the  paper  there  and  no  wonder!} 
I  always  detested  her,  partly  because  she  was  a 
favorite  with  you,  and  I  suspected  that  you  were 


296       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

disappointed  not  to  add  her  fortune  to  the  Car- 
rington  wealth — and  partly  because  her  praises 
were  rung  hi  my  ears  wherever  I  went,  lastly,  be- 
cause she  was  invariably  courteous  and  forbearing 
to  me,  try  to  provoke  her  'though  I  might.  And 
after  all  these  years  of  waiting,  you  are  really  going 
to  marry  her  to  your  immaculate  Paul ! 

"Never  mind!  I  am  biding  my  time.  Heaven 
(or  the  devil)  grant  me  patience  to  wait  until  the 
right  hour — the  hour  of  vengeance — strikes ! 

"The  boon-companions  sat  too  far  from  me  for  me 
to  catch  more  than  stray  fragments  of  their  talk,  but 
the  well-modulated  voice  of  one  brought  to  me  what 
I  have  tried  to  forget  all  these  years.  The  same 
voice  promised  me  the  fulfilment  of  my  highest 
hopes  when  we  were  both  young ! 

"And  now! 

•        ••••••• 

"Sunday,  July  8,  184 — 

"I  'attended  divine  service'  to-day  for  the  first 
time  in  the  Lord  knows  how  many  years — if  He 
cares  to  keep  the  account. 

"I  put  on  my  Sunday  clothes  and  accompanied 
Mrs.  Blankenship  in  an  open  carryall  drawn  by  a 
pair  of  mules.  You  may  have  seen  the  equipage? 
I  left  her  at  her  sister's  house,  a  mile  or  so  from  the 
sanctuary,  and  went  on  with  the  driver.  I  had 
him  put  me  out  a  hundred  yards  or  so  from  the 
church.  Then  I  strolled  with  lady-like  languor 
toward  the  sacred  edifice  (you  see  I  have  not  for- 
gotten the  vocabulary  of  the  ninety-and-nine).  I 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       297 

had  a  queer  catch  in  the  throat  when  I  recognized 
Aleck,  who  drove  the  High  Hill  carriage  fifteen  years 
ago.  He  was  standing  near  a  handsome  chariot 
with  an  embossed  'C.'  on  the  door,  and  the  detached 
horses  tied  to  the  nearest  tree  were  fine  enough  to 
match  carriage  and  driver.  His  wool  has  been  pep- 
pered-and-salted  by  tune,  and  he  has  grown  stouter 
but  I  should  have  known  him  anywhere,  and  the 
sight  shook  me  as  nothing  else  in  the  region  has 
done.  I  hurried  by  and  got  me  safely  into  the 
church. 

"The  preacher  was  the  only  unfamiliar  feature 
in  the  scene.  I  had  heard  that  little  Rice  had  been 
laid  on  the  shelf,  but  makes  edifying  exhibition  of 
his  Christian  spirit  by  continuing  to  go  to  church 
regularly.  I  soon  detected  him  in  the  small,  spruce 
worshipper  sitting  half-way  up  the  aisle.  You,  I  had 
seen  as  I  entered — sitting,  as  you  have  for  fifty  years, 
in  what  the  Methodists  call  'the  Amen  benches'  at 
the  right  of  the  pulpit.  Alongside  of  you  was  your 
ward  and  prospective  daughter-in-law. 

(/  had  to  stop  to  laugh  there  /) 

"The  incomparable  scion  of  your  noble  house 
was  modestly  ensconced  in  a  corner  under  a  window 
three-quarters  of  the  way  to  the  door.  He  did  not 
stare  over  the  congregation,  as  is  the  manner  of 
many  of  your  fellow  saints  of  the  masculine  gender, 
so  I  cannot  flatter  myself  that  he  saw  the  woman 
in  black,  sheltered  behind  a  thick  blue  veil  sitting 
not  far  from  the  door. 

"To  borrow  a  Bible  phrase — 'the  day  of  my  ven- 


298       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

geance  is  at  hand ! '  I  have  planned  it  to  the  minutest 
feature.  I  shall  wait  until  the  wedding-day  is 
fixed.  .  .  . 

"I  could  have  choked  her  to-day  when  I  saw  her, 
serene  and  refined — prettier  than  she  was  at  twenty 
— the  gentlewoman  through-and-through — fitted  by 
nature  and  by  education  to  play  the  Lady  Bounti- 
ful far  more  graciously  than  you  have  ever  done — 
and  be  adored  to  her  latest  day  by  the  man  of  her 
heart.  For  one  insane  instant  I  was  tempted  to 
rise  in  the  middle  of  the  sermon,  and  pour  out  the 
story  that  would  bring  the  fair  fabric  about  her 
ears.  It  is  better  that  my  original  design  should 
be  developed. 

"There  will  be  one  uninvited  guest  at  that  wed- 
ding-feast ! 

"Nothing  else  has  brought  those  abhorrent  years 
of  servitude  and  rebellion  back  to  me  with  such 
force  as  that  conventicle  in  the  grove  and  the  so- 
called  '  services '  held  there  to-day.  I  shut  my  eyes 
as  the  preacher  alternately  thundered  and  whined  his 
message  to  the  prim  and  proper  and  pious  assembly 
of  saints,  and  the  few  sinners  that  might  have 
straggled  in — and  fancied  I  was  back  at  High  Hill. 
I  recalled  the  headaches  and  belated  toilettes  I  in- 
vented to  excuse  me  from  attendance  at  morning 
prayers  in  the  big  dining-room,  with  a  background 
of  negroes  near  the  door — divided  even  at  the  throne 
of  grace  and  the  family  altar — (you  see  I  have  all 
the  phrases  pat  at  my  tongue's  end !)  from  the  pale- 
faced  elect.  The  same  sickening  farce  was  played 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       299 

every  night.  At  the  latter  there  was  singing,  and 
through  the  open  drawing-room  door  'Miss'  Liza- 
beth's  piano  led  her  choir  in  a  hymn. 

"My — for  the  nonce — sanctimonious  spouse  played 
the  patriarch  hi  reading  the  Bible  and  'leading 
in  prayer' ! 

"Ugh !  I  used  to  pinch  myself  to  make  sure  this 
was  really  Cecile  Larue,  who  was  condemned  to  bear 
a  part  in  the  ghastly  performance. 

"I  suppose  the  son  of  thunder  who  held  forth 
to-day  will  expect  a  thumping  big  fee  for  'uniting 
in  the  holy  bonds  of  matrimony '  the  richest  planter 
in  the  county  with  the  polysyllabic  Indian  name, 
to  the  heiress  whose  fortune  he  has  nursed  into  goodly 
proportions  for  lo !  these  many  years.  The  pastor's 
disappointment  will  be  another  feature  in  my  drama. 

"  I  have  rehearsed  it,  a  hundred  times  in  imagina- 
tion. This  record — done  up  in  a  breviary  His  Holi- 
ness the  Pope  has  blessed — will  be  my  wedding- 
gift  to  yourself.  You  can  communicate  the  con- 
tents to  the  unhappy  pair  at  your  leisure.  You 
will  need  a  little  time  in  which  to  collect  your  wits 
and  breath.  You  celebrated  my  first  homecoming 
by  a  fainting  fit  which  is  historical  in  the  family 
annals.  I  must  have  heard  of  it,  from  black  and 
from  white  gossips,  a  hundred  times.  The  negroes 
used  to  say  that  'mistis  fainted  dead  away.' 

"I  devoutly  hope  and  pray  that  the  adjective 
may  be  no  mere  figure  of  speech  in  the  swoon  which 
should  make  my  second  bridal  reception  immortal 
in  the  history  of  the  Royal  Carringtons." 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE  latter  pages  of  the  manuscript  were  written 
in  haste,  or  under  a  nervous  strain  that  changed 
the  handwriting  almost  out  of  resemblance  to  the 
clerkly  characters  of  the  portions  penned  in  the 
leisurely  hours  and  days  of  the  ocean  voyage.  Some 
passages  were  so  nearly  illegible  that  the  reader 
was  obliged  to  study  out  a  few  words  and  to  guess 
at  the  meaning  of  others.  The  physical  condition 
of  the  half-crazed  woman  accounted  for  much  of 
this  irregularity,  but  the  reflection  wrought  no  re- 
lenting in  the  gentle-hearted  reader. 

The  last  line  read,  he  collected  the  loose  leaves, 
and,  because  his  habits  were  scrupulously  methodi- 
cal, rearranged  them  in  the  order  of  the  numbers 
scrawled  at  the  upper  right-hand  corner  of  each 
page;  laid  them  smoothly  in  place  and  packed  them 
back  in  the  hollowed  breviary.  He  snapped  the 
clasps  tightly  and  pushed  the  book  as  far  away  as 
his  arms  could  reach.  Then  he  leaned  his  elbows 
upon  the  table,  bound  his  throbbing  temples  with 
tense  fingers,  and  shut  his  eyes. 

He  could  have  fancied  that  he  stood  upon  the 
verge  of  a  seething  pit  from  which  vapors,  assuming 
the  shapes  of  mocking  devils,  arose  to  confront  him. 
Never,  in  all  the  course  of  his  calm,  sheltered  life, 
had  imagination  conjured  up  such  a  series  of  weird 

300 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       301 

horrors  and  incredible  adventure  as  he  had  read 
as  actual  and  present  human  history.  He  got  up, 
by  and  by,  staggering  like  a  drunken  man,  and  went 
into  the  back  room  where  stood  a  bowl  and  pitcher 
of  water.  Madam  Carrington  would  be  here  pres- 
ently. He  must  get  the  blood  out  of  his  brain  be- 
fore she  came. 

He  mumbled  it  to  himself  in  plunging  his  head  into 
the  bowl.  Dazed  though  he  was,  she  was  uppermost 
in  his  thought.  As  he  dried  his  hair  and  rubbed  the 
back  of  his  neck  with  a  coarse  towel  to  equalize  the 
circulation,  he  spoke  aloud  again,  solemnly  and 
clearly: 

"Lord !  teach  me  to  speak  some  word  of  comfort 
to  her!" 

He  repeated  the  prayer  in  his  heart  when  he  saw 
her  turn  the  corner  of  the  house  into  the  gravel- 
path.  He  watched  her,  as  for  the  first  time.  In 
height  she  was  above  the  medium  stature  of  women, 
and  her  erect  carriage  and  the  stately  poise  of  chin 
and  head  made  her  seem  even  taller.  Her  son  as- 
serted teasingly  that  she  had  "learned  her  gait  in 
the  days  of  the  minuet,  like  many  another  Presby- 
terian belle,  who  had  never  danced  in  her  life."  Her 
step  was  as  even  and  firm  as  that  of  a  healthy  woman 
of  half  her  age.  Somehow,  the  sight  of  her  steadied 
the  watcher's  pulses.  He  met  her  in  the  door,  lend- 
ing an  unnecessary  hand  to  help  her  up  the  single 
step,  with  a  mien  so  natural  that  she  did  not  give 
him  a  second  glance. 

Her  eyes  passed  directly  to  the  breviary,  the  more 


302       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

conspicuous  for  lying  in  the  sunshine  that  threw 
into  bold  relief  the  glittering  cross  upon  the  side. 

As  directly  she  began  what  she  had  come  to  say. 

"You  have  read  it — all?"  pointing  to  the  book 
in  taking  the  chair  set  for  her. 

The  Little  Minister  bowed:  "Every  line,  Madam ! 
I  could  wish  it  had  never  been  written — or  rather 
that  every  word  were  a  lie !" 

"Be  seated — please!  We  will  talk  the  matter 
out  like  sensible  Christians.  I  am  thankful,  on  my 
part,  that  we  have  the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and 
nothing  but  the  truth,  although  seen  through  a 
medium  colored  by  such  hate  and  spite  as  I  had 
never  dreamed  possible  hi  any  human  being — least 
of  all,  in  a  wife  and  mother.  I  shall  regret  all  the 
rest  of  my  lif  e,  that  she  did  not  recover  consciousness 
for  a  few  hours,  that  I  might  have  asked  forgiveness 
for  neglect  of  my  duty  toward  her.  Don't  inter- 
rupt me — please!  I  was  never  actively  unkind  to 
her,  even  when  my  disapproval  of  her  conduct  was 
strongest.  But  I  merely  tolerated  her!  I  never 
tried,  in  the  fear  of  God  and  in  the  spirit  of  true  relig- 
ion, to  seek  what  was  best  in  her — and  to  make 
her  feel  that  I — her  husband's  mother — would  be 
a  mother  to  her,  if  she  would  let  me.  Do  you  know 
that  her  own  mother  left  her  husband  and  three 
children  and  ran  away  with  another  man  when  Cecile 
was  ten  years  old?  Paul  told  me  this  long  after 
he  was  deserted  by  Mrs.  Lame's  daughter.  The 
children  were  brought  up  by  an  aunt  who  was 
nominally  Larue's  sister-in-law  and  housekeeper — 
in  reality,  she  was  his  mistress.  All  this  Paul 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       303 

gathered,  little  by  little,  when  it  was  too  late  for 
the  knowledge  to  save  him  from  wrecking  his  own 
life.  The  whole  stock  was  corrupt — root  and  branch. 
Ce*cile's  beauty  and  accomplishments  were  regarded 
by  her  family  as  her  capital  of  which  she  must  make 
good  use.  You  know  the  rest ! 

"She  was  young  when  she  was  married.  Had 
I  pursued  a  different  course  of  conduct — if  I  had 
compelled  myself  to  love  and  understand  her;  if 
I  had  made  concessions  to  her  prejudices  and  studied 
methods  of  conciliating  her  when  she  gave  way  to 
her  temper,  and  showed  how  she  detested  her  new 
mode  of  life — if,  in  short,  I  had  left  nothing  undone 
to  win  her,  instead  of  forcing  upon  her  lessons  for- 
eign to  her  instincts  and  what  she  called  principles 
— you  and  I  might  not  be  now  discussing  the  most 
shameful  career  that  ever  disgraced  the  annals  of 
an  honorable  family." 

"My  dear  lady!"  for  her  voice  broke  upon  the 
last  words  and  she  turned  partly  away,  that  he 
might  not  see  her  face.  "Your  forbearance,  your 
tact — your  long-suffering  kindness  were  beyond 
praise.  And  when  you  brought  the  unrepentant 
sinner  home  to  your  house — even  after  you  learned 
that  she  had  imposed  herself  upon  you  as  another 
person — and  you  knew  her  for  what  she  was — one 
who  had  wrought  sorrow  after  sorrow  for  you  and 
yours — you  nursed  her  as  if  she  had  been  your  own 
child.  I  saw  and  heard  you " 

The  forced  composure  gave  way  at  the  recollec- 
tion. He  walked  to  the  window  to  regain  com- 
posure. 


304       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

The  full  mellow  tones  of  the  one  he  sought  to 
defend  against  herself  broke  the  troubled  silence: 

"From  my  heart  I  thank  you  for  trying  to  ex- 
culpate me  from  the  accusations  of  my  own  con- 
science, dear  friend.  But  I  have  thought  of  little 
else  in  my  waking  hours  for  a  week,  and  more.  God 
grant  that  the  terrible  lesson  be  not  thrown  away ! 
Now  for  a  matter  or  two  which  must  be  definitely 
settled  between  us  before  we  bury  this  shameful 
thing  out  of  sight  and  mind.  As  I  said  to  you  to- 
day, no  other  excepting  ourselves,  must  ever — so 
long  as  our  lives  last,  nor  ever  afterward — know 
this  story.  It  is  as  unbelievable  as  it  is  monstrous 
and  revolting.  If  known  it  would  take  rank  with 
county  legends  for  a  century  to  come.  I  will  not 
have  my  son's  name  blackened  by  the  tale  you  have 
read  to-day.  He  has  suffered  enough  to  atone  for 
his  early  folly  and  temporary  madness.  So  far  as 
I  can  accomplish  it,  by  the  help  of  God,  his  future 
shall  be  as  tranquil  and  rich  as  the  love  of  a  good 
and  pure  woman  can  make  it. 

"To  confide  the  foul  tale  to  her  would  be  needless 
barbarity.  I  will  not  have  her  heart  broken  and 
her  imagination  fouled  by  the  recital. 

"And  there  is  Helen !  when  I  go  over  the  various 
stages  of  the  tragedy  in  which  I  have  borne  a  part, 
I  find  it  harder  to  forgive  that  poor  wretch  when 
I  recall  her  lack  of  motherliness  than  for  any  other 
enormity  of  which  she  was  guilty.  She  never  cared 
for  her  baby;  neither  in  her  letter  nor  in  anything 
reported  to  us  of  her  sayings,  is  there  an  allusion 
to  her  child.  And  you  recollect  the  epithet  she  threw 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL       305 

at  her  the  only  time  she  spoke  to  her  I  Not  for  worlds 
would  I  let  the  dear  girl  suspect  the  relationship. 
It  may  have  been  a  touch  of  sentimentality  that 
moved  me  to  have  Helen  lay  flowers  upon  the  grave 
of  her  real  mother,  when  I  thought  of  the  pitiful 
farce  of  her  care  and  tenderness  for  the  mock  grave 
beside  it.  The  tombstone  tells  no  lie  now!" 

She  checked  herself  abruptly  at  that.  It  was 
plain  that  the  one  bitter  drop  of  which  she  could 
not  purge  her  heart  was  the  insult  to  her  beloved 
grandchild. 

A  brief  pause  was  ended  by  her  putting  out  her 
hand  for  the  breviary.  "If  she  had  had  any  real 
respect — not  to  say  reverence — for  what  she  said 
was  her  church — I  could  not  excuse  the  desecration 
of  a  book  that  should  have  been  sacred  in  her  eyes. 
I  learned,  before  I  had  known  her  a  month,  that 
the  church  to  which  she  feigned  allegiance  was  no 
more  to  her  than  any  other.  Her  visits  to  town, 
under  the  pretext  of  attending  the  confessional,  were 
a  pretext  for  theatre-going,  shopping,  and  the  like. 
She  owned  this  to  Paul  and  regarded  it  as  a  joke. 

"But  enough  of  this!  I  bring  myself  up  peni- 
tently, many  times  a  day,  by  asking  how  the  poor 
girl  could  have  been  anything  but  what  she  was 
with  that  fatal,  corrupt  strain  of  ancestry. 

"One  thing  remains  to  be  done  to  seal  our  com- 
pact. I  trust  you  without  a  shade  of  doubt."  She 
undid  the  clasps  and  turned  the  contents  of  the 
hollowed  book  upon  the  table. 

"Put  them  into  the  fireplace,  and  strike  a  match." 


306      THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

He  obeyed  dumbly.  The  loose  sheets  caught  the 
blaze  and  burned  like  tinder. 

The  sun's  rays  were  level  by  now,  and  a  rising 
breeze  rustled  the  feathery  sprays  of  the  acacias. 
The  shadows  were  cast  across  the  room  to  the  hearth 
as  the  flames  flickered  into  black  ashes. 

Mr.  Rice  swept  them  under  the  logs  piled  on  the 
hearth,  and  replaced  the  broom  in  its  corner.  Next, 
he  wrapped  the  clamped  breviary  in  the  paper  in 
which  Madam  Carrington  had  enveloped  it. 

"I  will  bury  it,  by  and  by,"  he  said,  briefly. 

The  involuntary  emphasis  upon  the  pronoun 
made  inquiry  superfluous.  Nor  was  a  word  ex- 
changed between  them  when  they  parted  at  the 
intersection  of  the  white  gravelled  path  with  the 
wider  walk  leading  to  the  garden  gate. 

Half  an  hour  later  he  rejoined  Madam  on  the 
side-porch.  Their  chairs  were  set  there  in  the  old 
familiar  order.  Madam  occupied  hers  and  motioned 
to  the  rocker  set  at  an  inviting  conversational  angle. 

"It  is  a  goodly  and  pleasant  thing  to  take  up  the 
old  life  again,"  he  said,  gratefully.  "One  can  hardly 
believe  that  we  have  left  it  off  even  for  a  little  while. 
And  we  are  to  have  what  our  Helen  calls  a  'real 
High  Hill  sunset.'  She  will  have  it  that  there  are 
none  such  anywhere  else  in  the  world.  We  miss 
the  sprite.  She  will  be  back  soon  ?" 

"In  two  days  more.  There  is  no  propriety  in 
her  staying  away  longer." 

Again  mutual  comprehension  of  a  hidden  mean- 
ing rendered  comment  needless. 


THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL      307 

Both  studied  silently  the  sunset  that  justified 
Helen's  encomium.  The  dark  lines  of  tree-tops  that 
jagged  the  western  hills  were  defined  sharply  against 
a  horizon  of  purest  saffron,  merging,  by  a  miraculous 
sympathy  of  color,  into  rose-pink,  and,  far  above 
this,  into  clear  azure  shading  into  tenderness  in 
pulsing  up  to  the  zenith. 

The  exquisite  harmonies  of  the  "homing  hour" 
in  the  country — the  distant  chiming  of  bells  and 
gentle  lowing  of  herds  on  the  way  from  pasture  to 
byre;  the  chirping  of  feeding  birds  and  the  crooning 
of  their  mothers,  as  they  were  nested  for  the  night; 
the  vespers  of  katy-did  and  cicada — attuned  as 
no  mortal  master  could  harmonize  them — all  ac- 
corded perfectly  with  a  sunset  strangely  beautiful 
even  for  High  Hill. 

A  light  step  upon  the  porch-floor  stole  into,  rather 
than  broke  upon,  the  dreamful  silence  entrancing 
the  two  rapt  observers  of  the  unspeakable  glory. 
Both  turned,  smilingly,  as  Beth  appeared,  her  hands 
full  of  papers. 

"I  walked  down  the  avenue  a  little  way  to  meet 
Dick  with  the  mail,"  she  said,  beginning  the  dis- 
tribution. "Three  letters  for  you,  aunt.  All  of 
which  look  like  bills — receipted  of  course — and  the 
Watchman  and  Observer,  and  the  Compiler.  For  you, 
Mr.  Rice,  The  Whig  and  The  Farmer's  Register, 
and  never  a  letter !  Don't  look  at  the  papers  until 
the  sun  is  entirely  down.  Was  there  ever  anything 
more  lovely?" 

Madam's  glance  passed  from  the  speaker's  face 


308       THE  CARRINGTONS  OF  HIGH  HILL 

to  the  letter  in  her  hand.  Putting  her  arm  about 
the  slender  figure,  she  drew  Beth  down  upon  her 
lap.  One  of  the  beautiful  old  hands  stroked  the 
blushing  face: 

"You  have  had  good  news,  then?"  as  if  an  af- 
firmative were  a  foregone  conclusion. 

"The  best  we  could  have !  By  a  fortunate  chance, 
he  met  in  New  York  the  man  he  expected  to  see  in 
Cincinnati.  So  the  Ohio  trip  may  be  postponed." 
The  soft  voice  took  on  a  joyous  ring.  "He  is  com- 
ing home  sooner  than  he  had  planned.  We  may 
expect  him  to-morrow." 

The  cadence  of  the  last  sentences  blended  har- 
moniously, to  the  listeners'  ears,  with  the  "homing" 
symphony  that  had  enchained  their  senses. 

None  of  the  trio  had  any  words  ready.  In  the 
tulip-poplar  nearest  the  garden  gate  the  night-sing- 
ing mocking-bird  began  his  vespers.  A  mist  swam 
between  the  eyes  of  the  Little  Minister  and  the  pur- 
pling hills  tipped  with  gold. 

It  was  Madam  Carrington  who  broke  the  long 
silence.  Her  voice  was  full  and  rich,  and  every 
syllable  was  rounded  reverently.  Her  look  was 
that  of  one  who  listens  to,  and  renders  from  dicta- 
tion, a  message  not  her  own: 

"At  evening- time  there  shall  be  PEACE!" 

THE  END 


UCLA-Young  Research   Library 

PS3007  .C235 

y 


L  009  534  972  6 


PS 

3007 

C235 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA    001  221  170  2 


